Come home a hero or come not home at all
by Sierra Sutherwinds
Summary: A hero's daily grind, a simple routine mission rattles Newkirk's peace of mind. Just another Newkirk story because we the Newkirkphiles can't have enough of our British Hero :
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: yes, the heroes are not mine, other incidental / accidental characters are.

**Unless you find them in a map, most of geographical names are fictitious. The German characters speak German between them. The dialogues in German are mostly presented in brackets, I don't speak the language and I really dislike those instant translators. For those who speak German, you can figure out the version in German while the rest of us, can survive with the English translation. Although it's not shown in written language, Newkirk speaks cockney. Since English is not my first language, I don't feel capable of giving justice to that particular (and adorable) accent of his. I use some regional (British) words but that's as far as I would dare to go.**

**I have not much background on fanfiction and as I say, I'm still mastering English language, but I won't use it as an excuse. This is my first story, I enjoyed writing it very much and I just wanted to share it with fellow writers and fans of my favourite TV characters.  
**

COME HOME A HERO OR COME NOT HOME AT ALL

A HOGAN'S HEROES STORY BY SIERRA SUTHERWINDS

CHAPTER ONE

Kinch entered the radio room with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. He had taken a brief break after Newkirk promised to keep a watch for the incoming messages. However, he was not surprised to find his replacement deeply asleep with his head over the microphone. The Englishman had been having trouble getting enough rest lately; several minutes every other hour and he would abruptly wake up again.

One deep breath and Newkirk opened his eyes with a gasp. Kinch pretended not to notice as he came closer with the drinks.

"Anything interesting while I was away?" He waited for Newkirk to give him back his chair.

"In my dreams or in the radio? Because, if I heard something in the radio, it probably was in my dreams anyway." Newkirk got up and stretched. He yawned lazily and went to sink on the bench by the wall.

"Are you sure you're up to this mission?" Kinch offered him the cup of tea, and he sat with his coffee. "You don't look too well."

"And who else is going to do it?" He shrugged but then his expression lightened up. "It's all right. I can take it."

"Why don't you talk to the Colonel? Or I can do it for you. There must be other way to get-"

"Kinch, I'm fine. It's all in me head, all right?" Newkirk stood up and finished his tea. He winced and shook his head. "This must be the worst cuppa ever."

"It's the same tea you drink every day," Kinch chuckled.

"Well, it's getting worse every day," he grinned.

Colonel Hogan came down the tunnel to find his men and talk about the last details of the mission. He too was concerned about Newkirk's recently acquired insomnia and growing state of anxiety. But under the circumstances, there was not much they could do. The mission was too important and time was against them to carry it off.

"You're leaving at twenty-two hundred hours, do you want to take a nap? I'll wake you up in half an hour."

"It's all right, I just woke up, right, Kinch?"

The sergeant had to nod but Hogan noticed he was not entirely convinced.

"Newkirk, this mission is important. I need you one hundred percent ready."

"I am, sir. I've been a bit tired lately, but I can do this. You know I can." He sat at the conference table and stared at the file in front of him. "Do you want to go through the plan again, sir?"

Hogan frowned as he caught a glimpse of Kinch's shrug. He would have liked to inquire further into what the real problem was but the war was not stopping any time soon. One moment of hesitation and they would have to rewrite the entire plan. As Hogan had conceived it, Newkirk was the only one who could pull it off.

"All right, one more time." He sat down in front of Newkirk and opened the file with several photographs in it. "This is Private specialist Josh C. Goddard, United States Army. He was shot down three weeks ago and sent to Dulag Luft (*) in Konsbach for interrogation and relocation." He showed Newkirk a diagram of the place before going on. "The underground spotted a new group of RAF prisoners coming from Frankfurt tonight. They will drive you to the intersection where the prisoners will be picked up to be taken to Dulag. You'll stay with them, make contact with Goddard, get the information he needs to deliver and then, you come out."

"So simple," Newkirk sighed and turned the diagram to have a better view.

"Wouldn't it be easier to stage a break in and get Private Goddard instead?" Kinch asked.

"The Nazis aren't aware of Private Goddard's specialty. They're still figuring out what he was doing in that plane. So far, they have only got the usual information. An attempt for breaking him up would only raise suspicions about him and others like him in his squad." Hogan explained. "Once Newkirk gets what London wants, Goddard may be sent to a Stalag and take his chances with the other POW."

"And how will we spring Newkirk?"

"That, I leave it to our master of escapism himself. You already came up with a plan, right, Newkirk?" Hogan waited for a second but there was no response. "Right, Newkirk?"

The Englishman was completely mesmerized by the diagram on the table and it was only after Hogan called him a second time that he seemed to wake up. "Oh, yes, of course."

"Peter," Kinch turned to Newkirk as though trying to give him a push to confess. But all he got was a glare.

"What's with you two? Is there anything I have to know before sending Newkirk on the wild?" Hogan stared at them and his eyes narrowed. "Anything about the plan that you don't approve, Newkirk?"

"Kinch here doesn't believe I have a privileged memory," Newkirk smirked.

"That's all?" Hogan chuckled with relief. "He's the only magician we have, let's hope his photographic memory is enough to complete this mission." He caught the Englishman still yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Peter, are you sure you don't want to rest a little?"

Newkirk took a purposeful breath and nodded. "All right, half an hour, then?"

"Please, be my guest." Hogan stood up and let him pass to the tunnel exit to the barrack. He waited until the Englishman went upstairs to turn to Kinch. "Okay, what's going on here? Do you know?"

Kinch shrugged; like a priest or a doctor, or Newkirk's loyal friend, Kinch would keep his lips sealed until Peter decided to talk about it himself.

"I have no idea, sir. He's going through a phase or something."

"As long as he can do this," Hogan said with a sigh. "These one-man missions get on my nerves. I'd rather do it myself, but London wants things to go as smoothly as possible." He got up and rubbed his neck. "Maybe I rely on Newkirk's abilities too much, don't you think? I can try to delay this for a few days until Newkirk feels better-"

"I don't think he'll get better until he's done with this, anyway" Kinch said almost apologetically.

The colonel glared at him. "Somehow, I knew you were going to say something like that." He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Surely, he would be nursing a hell of a headache before the entire mission was over.

"Shh, don't you slam that door," LeBeau scolded Carter in a whisper. He quietly pointed up at the bunk where Newkirk was sleeping. "He's taking a nap before leaving."

"Oh, good. He hasn't slept much lately." Carter sat at the table. "Ever since he knew about this mission." He frowned for a second. "Hey, do you think he knows something we don't?"

"Speak lower, he needs the rest," LeBeau insisted.

"And it's obvious he's not going to find it here," Newkirk said turning to look down at his friends from his bunk. "And no, I don't know more about it than you do, Andrew." He sat up and brushed his hair with his fingers. "Got some coffee in that pot, LeBeau?" He jumped down and went to sit at the table.

Carter got up for a moment and then, sat down on his bunk without taking his eyes off his friend. He frowned, tilted his head and twisted his mouth until Newkirk could not take any more of it.

"What is it, Carter?"

"Newkirk," the young sergeant took a purposeful breath before going on. "Is something bothering you?"

"I'm not the one making ruddy faces here," he rubbed his eyes and thanked LeBeau for the coffee.

"What Carter means is that you've been a little absent of everything lately. You don't seem to have slept at all these days. You're not even cheating when playing cards with Schultz," LeBeau sat down in front of him. "Are you coming down with something? Maybe you should ask Wilson to check you over before you leave."

"I'm perfectly fine, you all can get off me shoulders!" Newkirk took the coffee in a hurry and stood up. "If you have the urge of mothering something, go and get yourselves a bloody puppy." He virtually slammed the mug on the table to make a clear statement and went back to the tunnels.

Carter's jaw dropped but he restrained himself from talking until the Englishman was gone. "Wow, where did that come from?"

"Beats me," LeBeau shook his head. "He's a troubled man, mon ami. I don't think I have seen him like this since we met. It's this war, Andrew, I suppose some days are harder than others."

"I hate seeing Newkirk so tense about a simple assignment." Carter scratched his head under his hat. "Good thing that he'll be back by this time tomorrow and everything will be just fine, then."

TBC

* * *

All right, first chapter has seen the light, more to come if you really want to keep on reading :)

(*) Durchgangslager der Luftwaffe (Transit Camp - Air Force). The POW abbreviated the name to Dulag Luft, those were transit camps for Air Force prisoners. There were several throughout Germany. I invented the one in the story as well as the city where it is located. The logistics on mobilisation and treatment of prisoners are loosely similar to the real thing.N

**N/A: For those who wonder if I'm continuing the story, well, yes I am. Actually it's already done, but now I'm in the process of searching for a Beta who can cope with my ESL flaws so it's going to take a little while. But hang on, I think it's a nice little story with a couple of twists and turns that might interest you. It's just that I don't want to publish right away and then find silly mistakes that could've been avoided otherwise. Thanks for the reviews! See you soon ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

N/A: So, finally, the story continues.

Disclaimers:

**Usual characters:** The Heroes are not mine. I'm not profiting of them whatsoever.

**Other characters:** I made them up. For bad or for worse, they're not directly based on any living creature. Any resemblance with Earthlings, live or dead, it's almost an accident.

**The plot**: it's for entertainment purposes only. Not meant to cause controversy, or any discomfort whatsoever (well, only to Newkirk maybe :) ) Copyrights violations if any, are unintentional!

**Historical facts**: I checked them as much as I could. Thank the goddesses for Wikipedia LOL (and other sources, of course.)

**Language: **English, most of the time. Hopefully, it's readable enough to enjoy the story without having any stroke due to bad grammar or accidental typos.

**Any other detail. **I'm pretty sure you'll let me know through your reviews. Just be gentle, I'm not pushing for any post-grade on Fanfiction Literature. Have fun ;)

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Cold night, isn't it?" Bern, a fruit salesman working for the German underground made his last attempt at breaking the ice. "I've heard that the British love talking about the weather." He waited. "Maybe not."

Newkirk squared his shoulders against the back of his seat and turned to the window. So far, all weather conditions favored the mission; the night was cloudy, moonless and bitterly cold. At least, something seemed to be working all right. He leaned his head on the window while his eyes tried to make out the trees from the shadows passing by. Suddenly, he thought he saw something moving in the bushes; two human figures running and then crawling right beside the truck. Newkirk's heart beat faster and his breath was shallow. He had to close his eyes and count to five until he regained control. When he opened his eyes once again, everything had returned to a relative calm.

"The truck that's to pick up the prisoners will arrive within ten minutes." Bern's voice made Newkirk jump."You'll switch places with one of them and that's it. Konsbach is about half an hour from here. You have one day to complete the mission. Tomorrow at eighteen hours another car will be waiting for you one and a half miles away from the north-west corner of the building."

Newkirk produced a mental picture of the blueprints of the building as Colonel Hogan had spread them at the conference table just a few hours ago. He located the appointed corner and nodded dolefully.

"The driver's code name is _Humpty Dumpty_. Do you remember the password?"

Newkirk nodded again. Of course he remembered the password and the fact that that he should not repeat it more than necessary. He lazily lit his last cigarette for the next 24 hours and inhaled.

"They say you have broken out of this Dulag before?" The man chuckled.

Newkirk chewed on his cigarette and shrugged. "A couple of times."

"So, what happened? They caught you back, eh?" The silence lingered while Bern waited for an answer that never came.

Newkirk's eyes grew distant. The road was clear again, the ghosts were gone and the train station was just ahead of them.

The place was almost empty when they arrived. Only a group of ten British soldiers, now prisoners, waited aligned in two rows facing the railway. A unit of Germans guarded them although they did not seem to be waiting for anything in particular. Newkirk and Bern crawled in position behind the second row where the vegetation was thicker and the station lights did not hit directly.

"...vier, fünf,-" Bern counted the heads wearing helmets.

"Five guards," Newkirk repeated to himself. He chose one of the prisoners on the closest row. "The one in the middle," he whispered and signed for Bern to follow him.

Newkirk threw a rock to the opposite side of the railway. The sound made all the guards turn their heads at the same time. In a coordinated motion, Bern pulled back the chosen prisoner while Newkirk took his place on the line. The man was so startled that he did not try to scream until Bern covered his mouth. By then, he realized more or less what was going on and stopped struggling right away.

One of the prisoners next to Newkirk opened his mouth to protest. "What the bloody hel-" He promptly shut up after the corporal saluted him with Churchill's sign of victory.

"Nice weather, innit?" He bowed and smiled at every turning head that wanted to see what was going on. "Keep smiling, mates, we're all friends here." Newkirk kept his voice down.

The only officer in the group looked at Newkirk and raised an eyebrow. However, he remained composed and urged his men to do the same. "Play along," he muttered while scanning the guards for any reaction.

So far, the entire procedure had gone undetected. The last man on the line heard a whisper in the woods next to him. He froze as he felt an object touching his hand. "Pass it," Bern murmured before he left.

The object went from hand to hand until the roar of a truck coming down their way startled the last link of the chain. The object reached Newkirk's hands. But as the guards pushed them to move forward the corporal accidentally dropped it on the ground. He did not have time to pick it up, he had to keep on walking. The group of prisoners formed a single line and one guard shackled their feet. As they began to get on the truck, a murmur of protest grew all around.

One guard turned yelling at them to be quiet. It occurred to Newkirk that these young pilots might try to perform a great escape at any minute and he grinned at the irony of his situation. For the first time since he had been shot down in Germany, he did not want to escape.

He had put his foot inside the truck when another guard yelled.

"Moment mal!"(*)

Newkirk froze

TBC

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

(*) "One moment!"


	3. Chapter 3

"A watched pot never boils, LeBeau." Hogan clapped his man on the shoulder on his way to the table.

LeBeau nodded in acknowledgement but kept his eyes on the coffee pot.

The silence grew thick when Hogan sat down. Carter shielded himself behind the needle work in his hands to avoid looking at him. The colonel perceived the subtlety and heaved a sighed. He had been dodging stares and whispers behind his back all day long. He simply had had enough.

Hogan leaned on the table. "All right, let me have it."

No one responded. The men on the bunks exchanged glances but kept quiet. Some pretended going to sleep, while others buried their faces in a magazine.

"It's just another mission." Hogan straightened up impatiently. "We covered every angle, I wouldn't have sent Newkirk if I knew something could go really wrong."

"He didn't want to go."

Hogan turned to look at Carter. The young sergeant gulped and smiled. "Did he tell you so?" The colonel asked.

"No, but he was really busy yelling at us in his native dialect." LeBeau came to the table with the coffee pot and a couple of mugs. "I'm sure it had to do with going back to Dulag Luft."

The tunnel trapdoor slammed open when Kinch came upstairs. He caught LeBeau's last sentence and he knew he had arrived in a bad moment. He walked quietly towards the stove to fetch his mug. The idea was to get some coffee and go back to the radio room without being noticed. However, Hogan frustrated his plans with an unavoidable question.

"Kinch, what do you know about Newkirk's not wanting to do this mission?"

The sergeant turned. He had missed his window opportunity of escape by seconds. "Colonel, I-" He stammered for the first time since they had met. He took a purposeful breath and shrugged. "He didn't want to go."

"You all have stated that already." Hogan was about to raise his voice. "But why?"

Kinch sat down on the bunk/trap door and shook his head. "I don't know exactly. It's hard to get Newkirk into talking about those days. But from what I've heard from other prisoners things were rough for him." He took a sip of coffee. "He hasn't slept much and I think it's because he has nightmares about that."

Hogan rubbed his temple with two fingers. "Why am I always the last one to know about these things?"

"Because you're the colonel," Carter felt compelled to answer. "We don't like to... bug you about our... own problems." The sentence ended almost in a whisper. One glare from LeBeau and Carter knew he was in trouble.

Hogan kept his eyes on the mug while gently rubbing the rim with the tip of his finger. "I thought we all were friends. My rank shouldn't be on the way if you need to talk-" He lifted his head to look at each of the three men sitting around him. "But that's not the problem here. What I need to know right now is that whatever is troubling Newkirk is not going to interfere with the outcome of this mission."

Kinch felt the colonel's eyes on him. He tried to smile or shrug or look anywhere else but finally, gave in. "Honestly, Colonel, I'm not quite sure." The conversation could have ended there, but of course, it would have been an awkward conclusion. Kinch knew that Hogan would not let him go now that he had singled him out as the bearer of a terrible secret. He decided to capitulate. "Colonel, may I talk to you in private?"

Carter almost protested. They had been dodging questions and answers for a while and now that things were getting interesting, the conference moved out to another location. He hopelessly watched how Kinch followed Hogan into his office. "Boomer!" he said for lack of a better word. "They left us out!"

"Well, if there's something we should know, they'll tell us later. Don't worry." LeBeau put on his best poker face and picked up the dishes.

oooooooooo

Kinch sat down at the table while Hogan leaned his back against the window. Neither of them seemed very much eager to start the conversation.

"Kinch, it's almost midnight and roll call is in five hours. Could we end this before that? What's going on with Newkirk? You said he might not be able to complete the mission."

Kinch exhaled while looking for the right words.

"I said I'm not sure, but he's Newkirk. He might do it in spite of anything else."

"I know he's not sleeping much these days," Hogan shrugged. "Is that it?"

"He's been hanging out downstairs with anyone in charge of the radio. I asked him what was wrong but he only said something about bad dreams," Kinch said. "It's been like that for the last three nights."

Hogan frowned in disbelief. "Three nights? Newkirk has gone three nights without any sleep and you didn't tell me?"

"He made me promise," Kinch shrugged. "He said that he had it under control."

Hogan shook his head. "I should've known. He did look weird, didn't he?" He rubbed his temple again. "I could've sent someone else instead."

"Who else? Newkirk is the only one with a privileged ear and that's what the people in London asked for."

"How hard could it be to memorize some message? Those guys in London are getting harder to decode than the codes themselves." He sat down at the table. "Maybe I shouldn't have put it as a desperate situation. Newkirk must've felt that he had to do it at any cost."

"That's more or less how they put it," Kinch said. "They need the message."

Hogan did not talk for a moment. His eyes stared at nowhere in particular while his mind reviewed recent events. "Do you think there's a connection between the mission and Newkirk's swing moods?"

Kinch rubbed his neck. "He spent some time at that Dulag. Who knows? Maybe."

"Well, let's hope he'll be able to complete the mission without much complication." He got up. "Now get in contact with the underground. See what the status of the mission is and while you're at it, look for Dulag Luft Knosbach records. Especially from the year Newkirk was shot down. Maybe we can find something to help our British corporal. Then, you can go to bed."

"I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight." Kinch headed for the door. "If something happens to Newkirk I won't forgive myself."

Hogan sighed and lied down. He hated it when someone else had to say the last word. They always left him feeling uneasy and invariably took his sleep away.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Newkirk stiffened while the guard came closer. They must have found out he was an intruder. The only thing to do would be holding his hands up to surrender. The disappointment was enraging; he had come this far just to be captured again. How could he have been so clumsy? How would he face the colonel after such a failure?

The guard crouched to pick up something off the ground. "McGuiness? Angus McGuiness?" he read.

The prisoners looked around waiting for someone to step forward. So far, they had been shot down and moved around like cattle. Then, just when they thought it was finally over, this strange man wearing a RAF uniform like theirs had jumped out of nowhere to turn what remained of the day up side down.

The guard called a second time. Before there was a third time, someone pushed Newkirk from behind.

"That's you, _sassenach_,"(*) the lieutenant scolded him and rolled his eyes.

Newkirk understood and immediately turned to the guard. He smiled at him with the best impersonation of a Scottish that he could pull off. "_Och!_ Must've lost it while getting down off the train." He took the ID disks and put them on. (**)

The group got on the truck and on their way to Konsbach. The lieutenant deliberately sat down next to Newkirk and waited until the guards had taken their places at the end of the benches to began his inquiry.

"Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing?" He spoke in whispers to avoid attracting unwanted attention. However, that did not stop him from jostling Newkirk on the ribs.

Although it was an unexpected move, Newkirk barely reacted. "Blimey! Didn't you get the memo?" He joked in a quiet tone. He took off his hat and reached in an inner pocket for one small lock pick. He looked around to make sure he was not being watched by the wrong people. Carefully, he dismantled it in two tiny pieces smaller than tooth picks and hid them inside his mouth. "Believe me, I use to do this for a living." Besides a slight affectation in his usual accent, no one would ever notice anything wrong in his voice.

The lieutenant studied him with curiosity. "Who the blazes are you, lad?" Before giving Newkirk a chance to answer, he observed one of the guards turning to them suspiciously. "_Haud yer whisht!_ (***)Those wankers understand English." He cleared his throat to get his men's attention. "Gentlemen, I need some noise here," he mumbled.

Newkirk saw with amusement how the prisoners began an animated conversation. It was not too loud but enough to smother his voice and the lieutenant's.

"What language are they talking?" Newkirk frowned after unsuccessfully trying to catch every other word.

"Scottish Gaelic," the lieutenant shrugged as if it were understood. "We do this all the time to piss off you Englishmen. Now, tell me, what are you doing here?"

"It's a top-secret mission, can't talk about it," Newkirk said. "All I can say is that there's something I need to retrieve from the Dulag. I'm going to need some help, though. London and the Allies will be very grateful if you cooperate with me."

The lieutenant scratched the back of his ear. "Will it be dangerous for my men? They're too young and inexperienced."

"If you play along, Gov'nor, I promise that the only one in danger will be me."

The lieutenant shook his head with a grin. "What do we have to do?"

Newkirk breathed with relief. The first thing on his list had been accomplished.

oooooooooo

The thirty minute drive ended at the top of a hill. The group entered a fortress with bars in the windows and a thick coat of poison ivy on the walls. The cold air condensed the heavy breathing of the prisoners. One guard came out to lead them inside where other two removed their chains.

The house had seen better days before the war. They said it had been a mansion built a couple of hundred years ago for a rich family to spend their holidays. Too many political conflicts had reduced it to a first stop for new arrivals in transit to the Stalags. The main house held an inner yard or bailey where the prisoners did exercise and other outdoor activities. The barracks and the cells of solitary confinement were at both sides of the yard.

Newkirk had just crossed the threshold when an uneasy feeling crept down his spine. He stopped and the rest of the prisoners with him. His mind began to spin. The man in front of him caught him before he fell. The lieutenant came closer and touched him on the shoulder.

"Something wrong?" He grabbed him by one arm and did not let go until Newkirk had regained his balance.

"I'm all right." He let out a long breath. "Get your men ready."

Newkirk held his breath as the colonel of the Dulag came to talk to the group. It had not occurred to him that the Dulag's administration would not change that much in three years. His only hope was that the kommandant's memory would be still as slow as it was in those days. He kept his profile low and his hands in his pockets.

"I bid you welcome to Durchgangslager der Luftwaffe," he commandant smiled broadly. "Ich bin Kommandant Ulrich Metzger." He called a man in a jumpsuit who stood nearby and told him something in German.

"The Kommandant wishes you a pleasant stay and expects your full cooperation." The man smiled. "I'm Captain Damien Cavendish, Royal Air Force and I'm here to help you get by in Dulag Luft Konsbach."

The new prisoners glared at him. Newkirk heard them whispering words such as _traitor, coward _and _collaborator._ He would not wish Captain Cavendish to be left alone with this crowd.

With respect to Kommandant Metzger, the man only saw a new group of prisoners like the other dozen groups he had been receiving all week long. He saluted and signed for them to follow one of his guards, while he returned to his office. This was the day's last shipment and almost at midnight, all he wanted was his cosy bed in front of the fireplace. Captain Cavendish saluted the Scottish lieutenant and he too went away.

The group walked into a big room where three men took down the basic information of name, rank and serial number. As Newkirk remembered, the real questioning would take place in small cubicles upstairs or individually in each cell. After the initial protocol, they had to change from their uniforms into greyish jumpsuits.

"I look better in basic black, you know?" Newkirk joked with one of the corporals next to him. He quickly took the lock picking tools he kept in his mouth and hid them inside the hem of his pants.

This time, Newkirk was friendlier and more cooperative than the first time he was there. He played the part of a plain soldier so no one would give him more attention than necessary.

In less than 30 minutes, the group was on their way upstairs for further interrogation. The march was rather disorganized and extremely noisy. As it was their intention, the confusion took the guards by surprise.

"Move faster!" One of the guards yelled. Although he did not push or touch anyone, the man in front of him faked a trip over the next man in line.

"Hey, watch it! This ain't Victoria Station!" The prisoner first in line protested.

The rest of the prisoners began quarrels with each other until the group of ten men felt like twenty. The guards were not used to this kind of behaviour. Pilots in transit to the Stalags were normally quiet and reserved while digesting the idea of having been caught. Tonight, it looked like some anticipated New Year's celebration.

After a struggle for regaining control, the guards succeeded in arranging the lines at the end of the stairs. By then, Newkirk had already turned around a corner and was hiding behind an open door.

The group began to climb in relative calm. That was so, until the lieutenant counted six steps and turned around. "Where's McGuiness? Someone has seen McGuiness?"

"What's he saying about McGuiness?" One prisoner asked aloud.

"Someone misplaced McGuiness," another answered.

"What? Those wankers lost McGuiness?"

"He was near the main door last time I saw him."

"Who asked you, you _eeejit!_"(****)

The last one to talk threw himself on the next one on the lower step. Both rolled down the stairs taking with them the last four men coming behind them. Guards came from different corners to stop the fight and pull up the prisoners, but they too were dragged down.

The lieutenant stayed at the top of the stairs watching the pandemonium on the ground floor. One solitary prisoner came up to join him.

"I told you it was gonna be fun, didn't I?" Newkirk looked down to see one of the guards wrestling to get up. "I'll be fine from here, you may go and fetch your men now."

"Nae," the lieutenant shrugged. "I'll let them play a bit longer. I hadn't seen them so happy since the last time we played rugby against a unit of Royal Marines."

"Thank you for your help, then." Newkirk shook hands with the lieutenant. Military salutes and protocol were not his style at all.

"I've got a question, if I may to ask, that is."

"Ask away, mate."

The lieutenant chuckled at Newkirk's irreverence towards his rank. "What happened to Angus McGuiness?"

Newkirk widely smiled. "Och, he's got the best part of this deal," he sighed. "He'll be on his way to merry ol' England within a couple of days."

"Indeed? Can you do that?" The lieutenant raised his eyebrows to Newkirk's nod. "A corporal. Couldn't you choose the lieutenant instead?" He snorted and patted Newkirk on the shoulder. "Good luck, laddie. Whatever your mission is, we'll be all rooting for ye."

oooooooooo

The patrols had decided that the escaped prisoner must have gone outside during the commotion. That gave Newkirk open way inside the house and he only had to avoid an occasional guard passing by. He also had the advantage of having been there before and the place had not suffered substantial changes through the years. Security inside the Dulag was not too tight. He just needed to be patient and move slowly. He walked into the shadows and hid every time he heard someone coming by.

Newkirk went two more floors upstairs to where he remembered the attic was. He tiptoed into the darkened room, carefully moving among scattered things and abandoned furniture. He managed to get to the window. There was nothing to see except for occasional flash-lights blinking through the bushes. Newkirk reckoned that those patrols would stay outside until dawn. That gave him three hours to rest before resuming his mission.

"Getting in the Dulag, checked. Hiding in the Dulag, checked." Newkirk nodded. He still had three major things to do "Finding the messenger, getting the message, escaping." It sounded easy enough.

He was actually happy with things as they were right now. Those Scott lads knew how to take the best of a deal and have fun with it. He would have loved to stay with them and throw a couple of punches here and there. Surely, the Germans must be embarrassed with that little number.

Newkirk grinned. Nothing like a good fight to lift the spirits and clear the mind. He lied down on his back, resting his head on his hands. Until then, he had not realized how tired he was. He closed his eyes, stretched and prepared to sleep for some minutes.

This second visit to the Dulag had started at a good pace. It reminded him of the days when he got in and out of his cell just for the fun of it. Playing hide and seek with the guards was such a rush. He never got bored. He closed his eyes. His mind was already drifting between dreamland and reality when he heard a laugh. Some enthusiastic laugh only reserved to the young and naive; a familiar laugh.

Newkirk opened his eyes and sat up.

"_How long are you planning to sleep, Peter? We have still too much to do."_

Newkirk squinted at the silhouette in front of him. Besides the voice, he also recognized the face. "Hamish? But how?"

"_I checked the schedules. Tonight is Metzger's birthday, half of the guards are going to town to drink in his honor. Undoubtedly, the perfect night for a walk in the woods, don't you think?"_

"What walk in the woods? What celebration are you talking about?" Newkirk stood up but the man's eyes never set on him. "Blimey, Hamish, how did you get here?"

"_Ross is waiting at the bailey, he needs you to open the pantry. We can't have a picnic without some food, can we?" _

The echo of his laughter bounced on the walls. Newkirk covered his ears with his hands. "Go away, you're not here!" He closed his eyes and counted to five; everything should go back to normal after counting to five.

"Five!" He yelled at the same time that his eyes opened again.

_Got no time for this. Got no time for this. _He was alone. No more figures moving in the dark. The silence was deep, interrupted only by his own breathing. His heart beat pounded on his ears while he waited to regain control. It never happened. Tremors weakened his legs and he just threw himself down to the floor. He was too dizzy to think, or care for anything else but lying down. He exhaled. His mission ended there, he had failed.

TBC

ooooooooooo

* Englishman

** ID disks= dog tags

*** Shut up!

**** idiot!

I don't know the dialect, I hope translations are more or less accurate ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Hogan sat down on the bench outside Barrack 2. Although no one was keeping the score, the volleyball game was still on. The more he watched it, the more convinced he was of one thing. His men sucked on volleyball. Fortunately for the Allies, that was not what they were there for anyway. They were secret agents, spies, saboteurs and overall nice people.

Olsen served the ball. Carter saw it coming down over him and ducked. LeBeau jumped to bounce the ball on his head and make a pass. The ball bounced on Sergeant Schultz's tummy and went direct to crash through one of the windows of the main building. Hogan burst out laughing. That had been a great play. He should remember it for the next time they needed something from Colonel Klink's office.

"Carter, it's volleyball, not dodge ball!" Olsen protested.

"Oh, yeah? What about LeBeau? He insists on playing soccer."

"The name is Football!" LeBeau corrected him.

Klink came out to yell at Schultz, Schultz yelled at the prisoners, and the game was over.

"Everybody inside the barracks, now!" Schultz picked up the ball and looked around. He was pensive when he came closer to Hogan. "Colonel, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, Sergeant, what about?" Hogan smirked.

"Where's Corporal Newkirk?" His face wrinkled with honest concern.

"What do you mean by that? He's over there, don't you see him?" Hogan pointed at one group of RAF prisoners smoking and joking together.

"Come on, Colonel Hogan. I've seen Newkirk before. That man over there is blond and has curly hair. Besides, Newkirk never hangs out with the other Engländer. He is always with you."

Certainly, Newkirk's stand-in was not like him at all. They had already noticed it when the young man arrived through the tunnels the night before. He was taller and bulkier. He explained his abduction in a strong Scottish accent that occasionally needed translation into plain English. All and all, he was thrilled to be free and could not wait to get back to London.

Everybody concurred that Newkirk was not thinking clearly when he chose his replacement.

"He's going through phases, Schultz," Hogan shrugged. "But don't tell him anything, you know how sensitive he is about his appearance."

Schultz took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "And these _phases _are coming to an end soon?"

"He'll be back to his own self by tomorrow morning, I promise."

The sergeant did not ask more questions. He walked to his post not wanting to get more involved than necessary with Colonel Hogan's shenanigans. If he said Newkirk would be back tomorrow morning, Schultz believed him. He _wanted _to believe him. He _needed _to believe him.

oooooooooo

Carter and LeBeau did not move from their seats when Hogan entered the barrack. Kinch was also there with a piece of paper in his hand.

"All right, what did I do now?" Hogan came to sit at the table and glared at them in a defiant way.

"I have the report that you wanted, sir. Do you want to read it in your office?" Kinch handed it to him.

"If you get in there, we'll follow you." LeBeau crossed his arms over his chest in a threatening manner.

Hogan smiled and nodded. "I know you both are concerned about Newkirk and I promise that you'll be the first to know if he needs our help in anyway. But this is confidential, all right?"

Kinch shrugged triumphantly as he followed the colonel into his office.

"Twice in two days, Louie, this must be against regulation." Carter narrowed his eyes on the closed door.

"Write to your congressman about it," LeBeau said as he walked to the stove. He put the kettle on and went to lean his ear on Hogan's door.

"Corporal Hamish Sommerled and Newkirk were friends since their years in the Academy. They were sent to Dulag Luft Konsbach where they met Sergeant Ned Ross. They staged two escape attempts. The third time, Ross and Sommerled were caught and shot on sight."

Hogan listened to Kinch and read the reports. "It doesn't say what happened to Newkirk at that time."

"Probably he was taken back." Kinch sat at the table. "There are no more reports of incidents after that one."

"I don't know, Kinch. Something happened to Newkirk in that place-"

Carter slammed the door open and stormed inside. "They tortured him! It has to be it," he gasped with rage. "They did something to him, a-and drove him crazy!"

"Newkirk is not crazy," Hogan turned around. "And what are you doing here?"

"Sorry, Colonel, I tried to stop him," LeBeau entered and went to sit down on the bunk. "Poor Newkirk, the things he must have gone through in that place."

"Colonel..." Kinch turned to Hogan. "This was supposed to be a secret."

Hogan sighed and shrugged. "And you think we four can't keep it safe?"

"That's not important now. What are we going to do about Newkirk?"

"Carter, we don't need to do anything about him. He's fine. Nothing's happening," Hogan insisted. "Although, maybe..." He walked to the window while working in an idea that had just come to mind. "Kinch," he whirled on his feet. "Get that contact from the underground, Bern? Tell him that we'll need a ride to Konsbach tonight."

"Oh, boy, are we going to get Newkirk back?" Carter was excited.

"No _we, _Carter. Only me. The rest of you have to cover my absence in case I get delayed for some reason."

"Just bring Newkirk home, Colonel. We'll take care of everything here," LeBeau smiled and saluted.

"I'm going as a reinforcement. I'm completely sure that Newkirk has everything under control right now."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Newkirk left the attic with a faint notion of what had happened the night before. The feeling of despair and confusion made him shiver at each step. His mind was still deciding whether he had seen a ghost or had been hallucinating. One thing was clear, he had passed out or overslept or both and now he was in a hurry to complete the mission half a day later than he had planned it.

Still staggering and leaning against the walls, Newkirk managed to reach the basement. The laundry room was near the stairs, and there he changed into a German uniform. That would give him freedom to walk around.

His debut as a staff member was at the main office where they kept the records on their prisoners. The few workers there did not pay much attention to another uniformed aid looking into paperwork.

Newkirk went through numerous pages with prisoners' names and the dates when they were captured. He tried to overlook the familiar names although a couple of them unintentionally dragged his attention. He kept looking until _Goddard, John C_. appeared as a recent entry on the last page. "Cell Two," he read.

The block of individual cells was behind the main house. There, they kept the prisoners who were relevant for their rank or the potential information they could provide. The air in the building was stuffy despite the winter cold outside. It was a normal practice to use the heater to force the prisoners into cooperation. Physical torture was rare in the Dulag, but they had other methods to get what they wanted.

Newkirk stopped first in front of another cell. Cell 7. He peeped through the small window on the door. It was empty. "Same dull decoration," he said. He kept walking. Cell 2. He took his lock picks and began to work on the door. His pulse was shaky and it took him twice the usual time to open the lock. He wiped off some sweat from his forehead while dizziness almost made him drop his tools. Steps coming down the hallway should have alerted him, but he just did not care.

Josh Goddard was sitting on his cot when this man in a German uniform entered unceremoniously. He closed the door and put a finger to his lips. He leaned flat against the wall closing his eyes as one guard passed by. Newkirk breathed with relief as he walked away.

"I asked for a single room," said the young man on the bed. He did not seem scared but curious. He grinned maliciously. His skin was rather dark and his eyes were deep black.

Newkirk stared at him for a moment and then, he smiled. "Sorry for the interruption, I'm usually more subtle than this." He took off his hat and bowed. "Josh C. Goddard, I presume."

The private narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Now, this is new. Where did you learn English, Oxford?

"A bit southwest from there, actually." He came closer. "Forgive me for asking but, are you an Indian?"

"That's what the word says," Josh began to get annoyed. This German soldier was nothing like others that had come to interrogate him. "I have nothing else to say. You can go and tell your superiors that the trick didn't work."

"I do tricks, but I don't work here. I was sent to look for an American private fallen from the sky. " Newkirk frowned. "I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you a bit young to be in the Army?"

Goddard stood up in a defiant manner. "I'll be twenty next month."

Newkirk stared at him in disbelief. "Try again."

"Okay, in eight months," he gave in. "But that's the only information you'll get from me."

"Oh, you say that because of this outfit? I couldn't come just here dressed in those fancy jumpsuits of yours, could I?" Newkirk smiled. "Come on, laddie. I'm with the good guys."

"Oh, yeah? Have you come to bust me out?" He smirked. "Where's your army?"

"Actually, Josh, if I may call you Josh," Newkirk sat down at the table. "My people got a report about you and some message that you have to deliver. Since you've been temporarily delayed, they sent me as a middle man. I've come a long way to meet you and take your message to your headquarters. I haven't got much time, my taxicab leaves at midnight with or without me. So, if you don't mind-"

"You think that because I'm young I'm stupid too?" Josh shook his head. "Ain't going nowhere with you, pal."

"I'm not taking you with me, just the message," he shrugged. "All right, it sounds a bit insane but I'm a corporal of the Royal Air Force, we work on the same side, you know, the Allies." He understood that not even his friendly smile would convince the young man. "I was shot down too, a few years ago. They brought me here. In fact, I got a cell three doors down the hallway. How about that?"

"Same question here." The boy did not seem interested at all.

Newkirk stood up and looked around. "Let's see," he said at the same time that he pointed at the ceiling. "There are two hundred and fifty-two nails on the ceiling. Had a lot of free time them days. I used to count the nails as a past time."

"Two hundred fifty-four nails," Josh corrected. "We fixed a leak two days ago. But even if you are right, that doesn't' prove anything."

Newkirk narrowed his eyes. Any other day, he would have been prepared to fight with strong arguments. But today, his brain felt heavy every time he tried to come up with a good idea. "All right," he took out his locking tools and went to the door. He opened it and made sure that the guards were at the end of the hallway and looking the other way. "Come," he hurried Josh to follow him.

They entered Cell 7 and closed the door.

"What kind of joke is this? Kommandant Metzger's new methods of interrogation?" The young man asked. "Two minutes ago I was an ordinary POW and now I'm in the middle of a cheap spies movie. Why did you bring me here?"

"Keep it down!" Newkirk whirled around looking for something familiar. Fortunately for him, the Germans did not seem too keen on redecorating. He stopped at the bed. "This was me home far from home when I first arrived in Germany. See the initials carved on that wall, by the corner behind the bed." He waited until Josh found them. "_P. N._; Peter Newkirk."

"It's that you?"

"At your service," Newkirk smiled.

Josh inspected the room with inquisitive eyes. He pointed at one spot next to the door. He tried to read but the letters were blurred. "C-come home a her-"

"_Come you home a hero, Or come not home at all, The lads you leave will mind you , Till Ludlow tower shall fall.__**" **_Newkirk absently recited the excerpt. He realized he still remembered all of it.

"Is it yours?"

Newkirk shook his head and turned around. "Someone else put it there." He looked down and scratched his nose. "_The Recruit, _A.E. Housman. You should look it up at your local library when you come back home."

Josh sat down on the bed. "I would, but I'll never come back home, Peter."

Newkirk turned to look at him. "What was that?"

"When we volunteered for this, me and my friends made a pact" Josh lowered his eyes. "We took the oath of never being captured alive."

"But you _are_ alive," Newkirk shrugged.

"Because the Germans haven't found out what I really do." The young man looked up at him. "Before that happens, I shall die."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

"It's okay, me and my friends have talked about that and we're all prepared to die."

Newkirk paced around. He strolled till he was dizzy. "A pact? What kind of friends do you have that make a pact like that?"

"They call us _code talkers_, American Indians," Josh said. "We work in communications. The Government asked us to use our dialects to make a code for the Allies. We're classified, you know, top secret."

"What?" Newkirk leaned on the table and rubbed his neck with one hand. "Why do they never tell me about these top secret missions?"

"I could trust you and give you the message, but as long as I'm a prisoner here, the entire operation will be in danger." The young man smiled. "We made a simple pact to prevent the Nazis from getting a grip on our code."

"You call that simple? You're talking about killing yourself! They don't know you're a code talker, no one needs to know."

"It's a matter of time. We can't take that risk."

"I would," Newkirk spun on his heels to meet him eye to eye. "I say we keep quiet. They'll send you to one of the Stalags and wait till the war is over. You'll be all right. They don't need to know about you."

"But they already know about us. Before the war, Hitler sent people to our villages to learn the dialects. They found nothing but they're still looking." Josh crossed his hands over his chest. "Haven't you ever had a secret that you promised to protect at any cost?"

Newkirk brushed his hair with his fingers. He _did _have a secret. He and his friends at Stalag XIII guarded a very complex organization of sabotage and espionage; not to mention the tunnels and escape operations under the barracks. If the situation called for it, their lives would be a low price to pay protecting that secret.

He stared at Josh, so calm and resolved to do what he thought was right. But yet, if he were exposed, he would not last long under the Nazis' custody. They would probably decipher the codes; the Allies would suffer a huge set back and many lives would be lost. Newkirk shook his head and began to pace again. He heart beat fast. The conflict between the options was too heavy to handle.

"Now, the message is in my dialect. In order to transmit it to the next link, you'd have to memorize it as it is. I can't translate it for you." Josh said. "They couldn't explain that to you because it's-"

"Top secret, you said that already," Newkirk's patience was over the limit. "I think they had a hint since they asked for me. I can memorize anything; just need to hear it once and ."

"Awesome!" Josh said. "I'd like to see that."

Newkirk stared at him in disbelief. "Just like that? All right, you tell me the message and then what? You expect me to kill you?" He gasped for air. "Killing in cold blood is not one of my strongest points. I just can't do it."

"You don't have to do it, I told you I'm prepared to die. I know it's crazy but what else is left to do? Can't just sit here and wait for them to beat the secrets out of me." Josh shrugged. "All I need is the chance to go out of here and the guards will do the rest."

"You're right, you're CRAZY! Don't need to do that." He looked for something in his pockets and sighed in frustration. "You don't happen to have any cigarettes around here, do you?"

Josh shook his head

"Of course not," Newkirk said. "It's a nasty habit. Don't start on it. It can kill you..." He walked to the door.

"Hey, where're you going?"

"I'll find another way. There must be another way." He took a deep breath but it only filled half his lungs. "I need some fresh air, I can't think in this place."

"Wouldn't it be better if you take me back to my cell first? The guards could get suspicious if I'm not there."

Newkirk smiled sheepishly. "Sure, why not?"

He stood outside the door until the guard turned on the corner and the hallway was empty. He let Josh in his cell. "Now, listen. No funny talk about killing yourself, all right? I'll be right back."

ooOoo

It was almost noon. Within five hours it would be dark and some person by the name of _Humpty Dumpty_ would be waiting to take him back to Stalag XIII. He could almost hear Hogan the night before, briefing him on the mission: _It's not that complicated, you get in, memorize the message and get out._

But how to get back as if nothing had happened? That kid in Cell 2 was prepared to die once the message was properly delivered. No one had told Newkirk about that. How would he go on living with a guilty conscience? He had seen the kid; he had talked to the kid. Now his face and voice would be embedded for ever in his memory... His privileged memory.

What a paradox. Without Newkirk's particular talents, Hogan would have had to think of another plan. He would have never sent him to meet Private Goddard in Dulag Konsbach. The place where all Newkirk's nightmares began...

He felt a pressure on his head. His breathing was worsening at each step. He did not even know where he should be heading to. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Bad idea.

The dizziness threatened to blur his mind. He gathered his thoughts, in an attempt to give his brain some work to do. _Think.. think... poker, the odds on.... eh... tossing a coin... Tails Heads... Tails Heads Heads is more probable than... Heads Heads Heads... _He sank to the ground while his mind drifted away.

ooOoo

_Newkirk opened the attic window and went outside. Before coming out, Hamish passed him a sack and the rope they had just made with the sheets of their cells. He stumbled as he sat on the window frame with a bottle of wine in one hand. He drank and looked down.  
_

"_Wow! The camp looks different from up here." Hamish said. "Undoubtedly, a nice place, don't you think?"_

"_Blimey, Hamish, if you like it here so much, be my guest. I'll fly alone." Newkirk snatched the bottle and took a big sip._

"_Not bloody likely. If I don't go, neither will my sheet." He stood up and grinned.  
_

"_Let's go down then" Newkirk secured the rope and they descended to a lower roof top._

_Hamish twisted the rope to free it and pick it up for the next roof. They repeated the procedure several times until they reached the corner closest to the main gate. Quietly, they sat down. Hamish opened the sack and took out two pairs of boots. _

"_Fancy, aren't they?" Hamish took a pair and examined the nails on the soles. He turned to see Newkirk smoking. He chuckled. "You've picked up the wrong climbing partner when his idea of "taking a breather" means lighting up a cigarette."  
_

"_Don't start with your stupid jokes and put those bleeding shoes on," Newkirk said adjusting his pair. _

"_Aren't they too noisy? We're too close to the Kasserne, you know. They could hear us,"Hamish frowned._

"_We'll go slowly," Newkirk shrugged. "Just be careful."_

_"You don't happen to have a parachute in your backpack do you?"_

_"Be quiet."  
_

_They emptied the bottle of wine and sat on the edge of the roof. The descent was easy at first. The sentry tower was not sending the lights to that particular corner just yet. The road was clear. _

_"You know the reasons what climbing is better than sex?"_

_"Hamish, shh!"_

_"You can choose between the novice or expert routes..."_

_Newkirk grinned and shook his head._

_"Guidebooks tell you how many visitors have been there before you..."_

_"Stop it, would ya?" Newkirk chuckled. _

_"There are still rocks that haven't been touched!"_

_This time, they both laughed out loud.  
_

_One of the guards in the Kasserne came out and gave the alert. Suddenly, the lights blinded both men and three guards aimed their rifles at them. _

_"Hands up!" One of the guards yelled._

_Hamish and Newkirk stared at each other. They were still hanging on the rope and several feet in the air. _

"_He's got to be kidding," Newkirk looked down at the other soldiers and all of them burst into laughter. _

"_Undoubtedly, I told you the boots were too noisy."_

TBC

* * *

Code talkers: Although there is no much information, you can look it up in Wikipedia. They became relatively famous after _Windtalkers_ the movie, about Navajo Indians working at the Pacific. The code talkers participated in almost all the Allies fronts. I did my research on the Comanches who worked in Germany during and after D-Day. References of protecting the messages till the last consequences are taken in part from the movie. As far as I know, they never talked about killing themselves at all in real life.

The attempt of escape in Newkirk's flashback is based on one actual attempt performed by 2 prisoners in Colditz. I hope there is no copyright infringement for this one ;)

The jokes came from different sources, hopefully are not to spicy for sensitive readers LOL


	8. Chapter 8

Newkirk opened his eyes, not quite sure of where he was. His eyes were still unfocused when he began to move his head.

"He's coming to, Captain."

"Hello again," Captain Cavendish sat on the edge of the bed.

Newkirk frowned while trying to understand what was going on. He was in a barrack, he knew that much. But he did not see familiar faces, though. This was not Stalag XIII. He began to sit up but his arms felt too heavy. A young man with a RAF corporal uniform helped him to lean his back against the board.

"What happened?" His voice was too weak.

"Easy now," Captain Cavendish told him. "You passed out near our barrack. You were lucky I saw you first. The guards don't like it when prisoners wander about in stolen uniforms."

"You're suffering from exhaustion. Maybe you haven't been eating or sleeping enough." The man who had helped him up took Newkirk's wrist to check his pulse. "It's a bit fast-"

"What are you, a ruddy doctor?" Newkirk claimed back his hand. He shook his head in an attempt to clear up his sight. He failed.

"I'm a medic." The corporal shrugged. "You tell them that you worked at the chemist's and next thing, they give you Red Cross armbands and a first-aid kit."

Newkirk stared at the captain trying to remember where he had seen him before. "Sorry, have we met, Captain...?"

"Cavendish. And yes, we met at the main office when you arrived last night with the RAF crew."

Newkirk realized that his memory was not working at half its normal speed. "Oh, yeah. The welcome committee." He smirked. "So, what's next? Are you telling the Krauts on me?"

"Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I'm not what you think." Captain Cavendish smiled.

"I see you've been running about," the Scottish lieutenant came closer from behind the captain. He had a mug for Newkirk. "I've been chatting with the captain here. He's completely legitimate."

"A legitimate what? A collaborator?" Newkirk smelled the steamy drink and wrinkled his nose. "What do you call this rubbish?"

"Tea. Well, water with some strange powder in a paper bag and a spoon full of sugar, actually. Tea in a bag... sounds preposterous, doesn't it?" The lieutenant shook his head. "And Captain Cavendish is not a collaborator." He lowered his voice and looked around. "He's on _our_ side."

"Not on _my _side he isn't," Newkirk gathered enough strength to put his feet on the ground but he did not get up yet. His head was not just spinning, now he had a headache. "Blimey!" he sighed. It had been one thing after the other all day long. He needed a break. "Got an aspirin in that first-aid kit of yours, mate?"

"I'm afraid our privileges don't reach that far," the medic apologized. "Kommandant Metzger doesn't allow us to get sick."

Newkirk stood up and for half a minute, he thought he was better. Captain Cavendish grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to sit down on a chair.

"You're not going anywhere until you eat something. We're friends, you can trust us."

One soldier came with some crackers and a half bar of chocolate. Newkirk pushed the things away. "Trust? That's a heavy word, Captain. If me memory is clearing now, I remember someone saying that you've been here for a while. Why haven't you been transferred yet? How come you're allowed to come up and down this camp like a ruddy bellboy?"

"Watch your mouth, young man. We're prisoners but we still respect the ranks." The lieutenant said. "Captain Cavendish is the senior officer of this camp and-"

"I've got only one CO to answer to and he's not here. Besides, I don't work well with collaborators." Newkirk rubbed his eyes and blinked.

"We can omit the military protocol." The captain smiled. "I'm really curious about you. I'll tell you what. Your story for mine. You'll be surprised."

Newkirk stared at him for a moment. "All right, you go first, Cavendish, surprise me."

"Before I came here almost eighteen months ago, I was lectured about places like this. I just played the game so they would not separate me from my men. I earned their trust by doing a bit here and there until the Kommandant was sure that I could make the prisoners cooperate without much trouble." The captain leaned his elbows on the table. "In exchange, we got things for our barrack, two hours extra before bed time and other privileges."

"Like tea bags?" Newkirk pointed at his mug still untouched in front of him.

"And sugar," Cavendish grinned. "What they don't know is that whilst I'm the president of the welcome committee, I'm also in charge of the escape committee."

Newkirk did not react to that. "Oh really? What do you have?"

"So far, half a tunnel." He pointed with his chin at the heater unit in one corner of the room. "It broke two days after they brought it in. But it's an excellent cover for the trapdoor."

Newkirk slowly got up. Leaning on the bunkers and stumbling every other step, he managed to get to the heater. Cavendish and another soldier dragged the unit aside and pulled open a small door on the floor. Newkirk shuddered as he looked down the dark shaft. In all the months he had worked on the tunnels under Stalag XIII he had never felt so claustrophobic about small dark spaces.

"Nine meters down and another one hundred until the sentry tower," the soldier proudly reported.

Newkirk nodded. "Got an inauguration date yet?"

"It'll be at least another four months, we're still working on flooding problems." The soldier said.

"I must confess I thought you were bluffing. It's a fine job indeed," Newkirk said. He was still weak but this new discovery had stimulated his imagination.

The captain offered him one arm to return to the table, but he turned him down. He walked around until he did not need to lean on the furniture anymore.

"So, it's your turn now, lad. Who are you and what are you doing in a German uniform?"

Newkirk looked at the captain. He was still hesitant to telling him about their activities in Stalag XIII. The last time he had talked freely about it, he had got in trouble with his friends and almost transferred to another Stalag. On the other hand, it would be hard for him to get help at all without any good explanation.

"My story is a bit complicated," Newkirk said. "I'm here on a special mission but I can't tell you who sent me. I've got to pick up information from someone, and I was supposed to leave this afternoon."

"You _were _supposed to?"

Newkirk looked around at the other prisoners and shrugged. "That's as far as I can get with so much of an audience."

The captain signed for his men to go outside. "Go and look casual," he said.

Only the Scottish Lieutenant and the captain stayed. Newkirk came to sit down at the table. "Call me Ludlow. Not me real name."

"Henry Salisbury," the Scottish lieutenant said. "Real name."

"Damien Cavendish."

"Gentlemen, this is classified." Newkirk lowered down his voice. "I work for the Allies. They need some information by tomorrow night. There has been a change of plans, though. Now I need another way of escape."

"Another? What was the original plan, then?" Cavendish asked.

"Me walking through the main door, of course."

Cavendish doubted Newkirk's mental state but Salisbury just chuckled. "This lad knows what he's talking about. You should've seen last night's number at the train station. Brilliant!"

"Listen, Ludlow. I've got no doubt that you're a very clever man, but we're in a prison camp. Security is tight and our resources are limited. Walking out through the main door sounds hard enough. Why do you need another plan now?" the captain asked.

"I told you I had to get a message, well, now I've got to take the messenger out too." Newkirk said in a casual way. "Going alone is easy, I could talk me way out without a problem. But with another man, that would need a more elaborate explanation. Not to mention that he'd need another uniform." He winced as something else came to mind. "Oh, yes, and he doesn't look German at all."

The two officers exchanged glances. Then, the captain turned to see him. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"Glad you ask, I'm open to suggestions." Newkirk smiled. "So far, I'm thinking on sending him in this uniform instead of me. I'd need something to make the guards turn their heads whilst he crosses the main gate, though. I was stuck on the logistics until I saw what you're capable of, we might profit from each other."

Cavendish raised his eyebrows. "What could you possibly offer, Ludlow?"

"First of all, I need to know if you can help me to put my man outside this camp."

"I'd say yes," Cavendish smiled.

"What about you?" Salisbury said. "Aren't you going out too?"

Newkirk took a deep breath and shrugged. "You ask too many questions. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." He turned to Cavendish. "Now, Cavendish, let's talk."

TBC

* * *

A senior officer playing with Nazis while building up a escape plan under a Dulag Luft? Looks so out-of-the-blueish doesn't it? Yeah, not too original for a fictional story, but it's based on real facts. When I read the story I had to include it on my Dulag :) (read it too in Wikipedia: Dulag Luft Oberursel escape)


	9. Chapter 9

"How long were you at Dulag Luft, LeBeau?"

"Two weeks, three days and some minutes, I didn't keep track of the time, Carter." LeBeau shrugged. He went on brushing a tweed coat and a hat.

"How about you, Kinch? You stayed there that long too?"

Kinch made a pause in his work with the radio to recall the dates. "Three weeks exactly before they transferred me here. Why are you asking?"

Carter leaned his shoulder against the wall shuffling the ID cards in his hands and sighed. "I don't know, all this talking about Dulag Konsbach and Newkirk's friends got me thinking."

"Of what? Your own stay?" Kinch asked.

"I didn't go to Konsbach. I went to Dulag Frankfurt." He sat on the bench. "They treated me so well there. We even went for walks in the park. Nice city, by the way."

LeBeau snorted. "And that was too bad because..."

"That's the point. All of you have these terrible stories of solitary confinement in tiny little rooms. Hours of doing nothing but counting the knots on the ceiling boards... Me? I was sightseeing in Frankfurt all the while."

LeBeau and Kinch exchanged glances and smiled.

"Don't feel bad, Andrew." Kinch looked at him. "Those Germans in the Dulags know how to work the prisoners. They could see what an easygoing person you are, and they played along with that."

"That's how they interrogated you." LeBeau hung up the coat and stepped back to admire his work. "You probably didn't notice how many questions they asked."

Carter raised his eyebrows. "Hey, I just remember they began asking about my hometown but after a while they stopped."

"And how long were you there, anyway?" Kinch asked.

"Almost two days."

LeBeau and Kinch laughed. "That means they couldn't get anything from you, Carter," Kinch came to sit next to him. "You fooled them."

"How cleaver of me, eh?" Carter hesitated to take credit for that.

Hogan came through the tunnel dressed in street clothes. His long face lightened to see his men laughing and joking. "Good to see you in high spirits." He took the coat off the hanger and tried it on.

"A little loose on the shoulders, I'm sorry." LeBeau knew that Newkirk would have fixed that in seconds.

"It's okay, LeBeau, you made a great last-minute job." Hogan turned to Carter. "Did you get the ID?"

"Let's see," he began to read. "Hans Grubber, electrician; Dieter Burgmüller, librarian; Dennis Friedhelm, salesman; and Cloris Ludwig, showgirl." Carter looked up at the stares and he shrugged. "I'm not good at making up names."

"In that case, I'll take Dieter, we ran out of silk stockings after Operation Mardi Grass." Hogan put the faked documents in his inner pocket. "I'll be back at five hundred hours, right before roll call; with or without Newkirk,." He turned to his men. "And I'm not anticipating anything, okay?"

Kinch went back to his station. "Colonel, an incoming message from London."

Hogan sat at the table. "Papa Bear here, go ahead."

"_We want to confirm the fulfilment of the last mission."_

"It's still in progress. Our agent's ETA is in three hours."

"_Good to hear that, because within twelve hours, the message will lose relevance."_

"I don't understand, we were told that the message was vital."

"_A matter of life and death indeed, but this is what we would call a sticky wicket situation. See? We could use the message but what's more important is that the messenger must not fall into enemy hands. The mission is not done until the messenger is secured at any cost."_

"Do we have to rescue the messenger, then?"

"_The messenger must not get in enemy hands. It's up to you to decide how to manage the situation. We're behind you one hundred percent. Over and out."_

"What do we get from this?" Hogan frowned.

"Unbelievable." LeBeau said.

"Don't get it." Carter came to the table determined not to be left out again. "Where does this leave us? Do we have to rescue the man? Isn't it a little late to get him out? Newkirk is already coming back. "

"I'm afraid that they don't care much about how we do it, Carter;" Kinch said.

"What do you mean? We're not talking about killing the messenger, are we?" He was astonished. "We don't do that. I mean, we have disposed of a few foes here and there but never one of our own boys. Colonel, we don't do _that_!"

"No, Carter, we don't. I don't think we have to anyway." Hogan stood up. "We still have tonight to put everything right. I'll talk to Newkirk and we'll figure something out."

They saw him going up the ladder and for a moment no one talked.

"What if...?" Carter finally said.

"What if what," Kinch asked.

"What if Newkirk had known about this before he left? Do you think he would've done it?"

LeBeau sighed. "I'd say no. No way." He turned to Kinch who suddenly was in a thoughtful mood.

"I'd bet he wouldn't." Kinch went back to the radio station. "Newkirk never follows the rules to the letter."

ooOoo

Newkirk strolled in no particular direction. He was still trying to put his thoughts in order, and burying himself in that matchbox they called a cell did not help at all. Back in Stalag XIII, things would be different. He would just sit on a bench with Carter and LeBeau. They might do some laundry or play cards. He would smoke a couple of cigarettes and everything would be back to normal.

He thought about the day before at the barrack. He wished he had not been so cross with his two friends. They were trying to help. That would not be a nice way to remember Peter Newkirk if he never came back. It was so easy to ignore that any day could be the last one for any of them. If he could go back in time, he would have found the way to be nicer regardless of how he actually felt about the mission.

Of course, that was just an illusion. He would probably yell at them again... Coming back to the Dulag had been the most stupid thing to do. So many memories, all at once... ghosts that were only in his head... his mind taking him to places he had forgotten... He wondered how much time till he lost control...

He shook his head. He would end the mission before that happened. He still have one life to save. After that nothing else would matter.

He came near the mess hall and stopped. Some guards were still inside playing cards. The kitchen was open and unattended. Newkirk entered pretending to inspect the place. He went to the pantry and found small boxes of dried fruit and chocolate bars he could hide in his pants pockets. The smell of smoking cigarettes dragged him back to the front of the place.

One group was at the table with cards and cigarettes in hand.

["What are you playing?"] Newkirk asked.

["Poker. Do you want to play?"] The dealer turned and grinned. ["Stakes are low."]

Newkirk tilted his head in an innocent manner. ["I'm not good at it. I'd rather play _Go Fish_."]

The other guards laughed.

["That's for kids!"]

One man got up from the table. ["Come, play with the men."]

Newkirk grinned and took a seat. ["I don't carry money with me but I've got some chocolate bars."]

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_Who's Josh? And Salisbury? And Cavendish?... Is this a German uniform? How did I get here? Where's here? Who's Humpty Dumpty?_

Newkirk's head hurt. Daylight was coming down fast and he knew there were things to do before that. Names and faces hovered in his head for a moment until they were properly connected. He breathed with relief. He finally came back to reality.

He had been playing cards with some guards at the mess hall. He made friends. He got cigarettes. He was Newkirk, currently struggling to keep what was left of his sanity. Josh was the Indian boy in Cell 2. He had to save Josh...

Next step was unlocking the door and then, entering the cell. Josh was sitting on the chair carving some words on the wall.

"Got inspired by the decoration on me room?" Newkirk said putting a backpack he was carrying on the floor.

Josh turned to see Newkirk's sleepy eyes examining the work on the wall. He was short breathed and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Josh's serene expression changed into one of surprise. "But what happened? You look like hell."

"That's been properly established already, thank you very much." He went to sit on the bed. "What are you writing over there?" He leaned forward to read.

"_Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth,_

_Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself,_

_Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here,_

_Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go. _

_Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you." (*)  
_

"You're a poet now?"

"It occurred to me that someone else will get this cell after I'm gone." Josh said. "It's a prayer my grandmother taught my brothers and me when we were little. She was Pueblo."

"Is that a tribe?" Newkirk saw the young man's wary look and smiled. "Come on, mate. I'm putting me life on the line for yours. Couldn't we at least be civilized?"

Josh stared at him for a moment and shrugged. He straightened up and offered him his hand. "Josh Goddard, Private. Comanche on my father's side, Pueblo on my mother's."

"Hello, Josh." Newkirk shook his hand. "I'm Peter Newkirk, Corporal. Welsh on my dearest mother's side, Londoner on the other side that's not my mum's." He grinned.

"What's in that backpack? Were you shopping? Where did that coat come from?"

"Souvenirs, just souvenirs." Newkirk opened the bag and took out a deck of cards, several packs of cigarettes, one bottle of wine and chocolate bars.

"Where did you get that? Did you steal it?" Josh looked rather impressed.

"Won it in a poker game." Newkirk grinned. He stood up and emptied the pockets of his coat on the table. "This, I collected." He counted three ID cards, some money, stationary paper and one pen.

"Those didn't come from a poker game," Josh examined the ID cards. "Don't you think that the owners will notice these are missing?"

"Actually, I took the ones that were misplaced. That means Hans, Dieter and Fritz are rather disorganized. They'll have themselves to blame for losing their belongings, don't you think?" Newkirk flipped a coin in the air. "They probably haven't noticed their ID cards are missing."

"Is that a silver dollar?" Josh chuckled. "You're a thief, Peter Newkirk!"

"Why not, I just pick up what is left behind." He grinned and took off the coat. "By the way, have this, it's going to be very cold tonight."

"Wow, they didn't notice you took this either?"

"Oh, please. You make it look as some cheap trick. It's an art, laddie. You just free people from things they're not using... much."

Josh smiled and shook his head. He did not know how things would develop but at least, he was having a good time all the way. Then, a thought crossed his mind.

"It's getting late, don't you need time to memorize my message?"

Newkirk stepped back. "No. No, I don't want to hear a word of it. If it enters in me head, it'll stay there forever. You'll tell it to your mates tonight when you get to me headquarters."

"What are you saying? You're taking me with you, then?"

"I'm sending you ahead, actually." Newkirk began to unbutton his jacket. "We'll exchange uniforms, all right?

"Are you sure? I told you, I'm ready to-"

"Stop saying that, would you? Blimey! No one is dying on me watch! You'll bloody do what I say, Hamish!" He stopped and exhaled. "Josh... Sorry... Josh." He took his shirt off and handed it to the boy. "Just put this on and give me that ruddy jumpsuit. This had better work."

Josh did as he told him. He took the uniform and started putting on. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult. It's my first time as a POW."

"It's all right being scared, Josh..." Newkirk mumbled. "It keeps you alive." Words of comfort never came easy. Carter, Kinch and LeBeau were better at it than him. He had always envied their skills with youngsters.

"So, do you have a plan?" Josh asked. "What is it exactly?"

"It's still on blueprints. You just need to know that when I say the word, you'll run for your life. Literally."

"That will be easy. I was in the long-distance running team back in High School."

"How fast were you?" Newkirk asked. He finished putting on the jumpsuit.

"My father called me _Antelope_." Josh smiled.

"It's that your Indian name, then?" Newkirk allowed himself to smile.

"Do you find it funny?" Josh turned to look at him.

"Oh, no. I just remember one friend with an Indian name on his own." Newkirk sat at the table. "_Little __Deer Who Goes Swift And Sure Through Forest._"

Josh smiled. "That's neat. Don't you want an Indian name too? I think you deserve one. You have a lot of courage for doing what you do." He put on the jacket of the German uniform. The sleeves barely reached his wrists.

"Boys grow too fast these days, don't they." Newkirk shook his head. "The boots will hide the length of the pants and it's dark outside. No one will notice." He patted the boy on the shoulder. "Just don't fold your arms."

"I just hope not to trip on the boots. They're too small. Are you going to explain me your plan?" Josh shifted on his feet. Wearing that uniform made him uncomfortable. "If I get caught on this, they'll shoot me."

"No worries, lad. They won't know you're gone after it's too late. Keep the collar of your coat up to your nose." He rubbed his hands. "Keep an eye on me and wait till I give you the sign. Then you walk towards the main door and don't look back. Once you're out of sight, run." He reached inside the backpack. "I almost forgot." He tossed him a compass. "Can you read this thing? Go north west until you see one car at one side of the road."

"I don't speak German. What if someone talks to me?"

"You just say _Jah_ to everything they say and walk away."

"Do I need a password for the contacts on the road?"

"Later." He sat at the table. "Now I need to prepare this for a friend. Sit down and count the nails on the ceiling."

The Englishman took the ID cards and erased some words with water. He wrote something else and blew to dry out the paper. After he finished, he wrote the password and passed it to Josh.

"Read it, memorize it and eat it." He grinned at the youngster's look of surprise. "Just destroy it."

Josh laughed at the password. "Now I feel like John Gielgud in _Secret Agent_. It's okay shooting at spies, you know?"

"You've seen too many movies." Newkirk joked.

Then, he put the backpack under the covers in the bed. "It's a rough sketch of you sleeping, but it might work if they don't look too close." He caught Josh's stare of disbelief. "Relax, laddie, by this time tomorrow, you'll be in London." He went to the door and turned to see him one last time. "Wait five minutes and come to the yard. Stay close to the main building and try to look... invisible."

"Hokahey, Newkirk!"

"What does that mean?"

Josh grinned and tilted his head. "It's a Lakota war cry, it means _Let's do it!_"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Don't forget to lock the door when you come out."

ooOoo

"Three ID cards, that's all I could get. I wish I could've got more but time is pressing." Newkirk said.

"This is more than I asked you for." Cavendish smiled. "We'll give these the best use we can."

"If you find contacts in town, you'll know where to ask for us. Just give us a ring, so to speak, and we'll get you out of this hole." Newkirk turned to Salisbury. "That's real _Earl Grey _tea, keep it safe."

"I'll defend it with me life, lad." The lieutenant held the small box close to his nose and sniffed.

"Now, to our business." Cavendish opened the door for Newkirk to see outside. "We've prepared a small football match as a distraction. Five of Salisbury's men against five of mine. Hopefully, it will be enough."

"It'll have to work. We'll make it work." Newkirk nodded.

Salisbury came to shake his hand. "Good luck, me friend. You'll have to invite us to a drink in London after the war and tell us all about it."

"Actually, I know a nice pub called _The Red Lion. _We'll meet there right after this ruddy mess is over," Newkirk saluted the officers.

Cavendish opened one bottle of wine that Newkirk had gotten for them. He filled out the mugs and they made a toast. "To the King," he said.

"To the King," Newkirk repeated.

TBC

* * *

* A Pueblo Indian prayer


	11. Chapter 11

"_Cheers!" Hamish raised his stein._

"_Same here,"Newkirk laughed. He turned to Ross on his left at the table and patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, mate. Cheer up. It wasn't that bad."_

"_Undoubtedly. We made it till here. How long has it been since you drank authentic German beer?" Hamish said._

_Ross smirked. "We were supposed to get the train to Switzerland half an hour ago. Instead, we're sitting here waiting for the SS to pick us up back to Dulag Konsbach."_

"_But we're having free beer," Newkirk saluted the two local police officers watching them from a table nearby. "And no one shot us even once."_

"_Next time we'll be more careful," Hamish shrugged. "Better documents, and Peter might get us a compass that actually works."_

"_You read the ruddy maps backwards, Sommerled," Newkirk snorted._

"_Bloody Don't-care," Hamish grinned._

"_Don't-care didn't care," Newkirk followed the joke._

"_Don't-care was wild" Hamish said. "Don't-care stole plum and pear like any beggar's child."_

"_What're you two talking about. More of that British garbage that you call jokes?" Ross complained._

"_Don't-care was made to care, Don't-care was hung," Hamish told him._

_Newkirk turned to the American sergeant. "Don't-care was put in the pot.."_

"_And boiled till he was done!" Both, Hamish and Newkirk finished the rhyme together and laughed._

"_You are drunk." Ross shook his head. "I deserve this for hanging around with the Dulag's clowns." He took a sip of his beer and wiped the foam off his moustache. "That's it. Next time I'll take charge and keep an eye on you two," Ross turned to the door where two SS guards had just arrived. "Gentlemen, our ride back home is here..."_

ooOoo

"Ludlow"

"Ludlow"

Newkirk felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

"All right, you don't have to use your real name, but at least, could you remember the one you made up?" Salisbury grinned. "Oh, laddie, you're a mental case."

Newkirk stared at him in silence. Little by little, his mind came back to the present time. He was in the yard with the other prisoners. A football match was in progress. "How long have they been playing?" He leaned against the wall of the barrack. He had lost track of time again and that terrified him.

"Oh, just a couple of minutes." Salisbury sighed. "Our captors are not as interested as we need them to be, though. Personally, I don't blame them. This isn't a bit like the bloody World Cup, is it?"

Newkirk frowned. "What've you just said?"

"That our men make a poor substitute for a real football match."

Newkirk grinned with a new idea. "Where's Cavendish?"

"Over there, he's the referee. The bloody bastard has favoured those sassenachs with two direct free kicks in less than five minutes."

Newkirk walked to the opposite corner and called the captain. "Cavendish, sunset is in half an hour."

"I know," he said. "There's little left to do. Once the sun goes down, they'll send us to the barracks."

"Listen, we need to keep this going for a bit longer than that." Newkirk looked around. "What if we get the guards in the game?"

"He's been too much outside, the cold is starting to affect his brains," Salisbury shook his head. "Come on, maybe you should get some sleep."

"No, wait." Newkirk ignored the lieutenant's concern. "Remember the last game between England and Germany?"

"Berlin, Olympic Stadium, nineteen thirty- eight." Cavendish nodded.

"Oh, yes. That was a game to remember." Salisbury grinned. "We won six to three against Hitler's bloody bastards."

"Maybe these blokes would love to have a rematch here and now." Newkirk said.

"We can try, I guess," Cavendish shrugged. "Salisbury, gather the men and tell them about the change of plans." He took a purposeful breath. "I'll go to talk with the Kommandant."

Newkirk kept his fingers crossed. Josh should leave within one hour or he would miss his ride. He did not want to think of what would happen if the car were not there when the young man arrived. As much as he hated it, he was working without a safety net or error margins. Not even a gambler would work with those odds. If Hogan could see him now, he would probably send him to dig tunnels under the English Channel.

He began to feel dizzy again. His vision blurred and he had to seek Salisbury's shoulder for support.

"Hey, are you all right?" The lieutenant stopped on his way to the courtyard and helped him to get to a bench nearby. "Sick again? It happens often, doesn't it?"

"Define _often_," he said. He leaned forward and lowered his head. "I'll be all right... As soon as me friend is out of here, everything will be all right." He squinted but his eyes were unfocused.

ooOoo

Josh walked into the yard expecting everybody to turn their eyes on him. Instead, they were busy gathering in groups and talking. His first impulse was to look for familiar faces among the prisoners and stick with them. It had been almost one week in isolation. Almost seven days in silence. Seven days contemplating death as the only way of escape. Seven days seeing the world under a sombre light. And suddenly, the cell was open and his world had changed again.

He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. He was alive. He wanted to stay alive.

He remembered Newkirk's instructions and headed for the door.

He was half way there when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw one of the guards.

"Spielen Sie Fußball?" (_*)_

Josh ducked his head, pulling the collar of his coat almost to his eyes. He hesitated before saying the only word he knew in German. "Jah." He kept walking.

"Möchten Sie mitspielen?" _(**)_

"Jah, jah."

At this point, the guard grabbed him by one arm and pulled him to the middle of the yard. "Kommen Sie hier." _(***)_

Cavendish came to sit with Salisbury and Newkirk. His face reflected the bad news he was carrying. "Hey, lads. You've got no idea what's going on there." He pointed at the group of Germans getting ready for the game.

Salisbury looked up at them and his jaw dropped. Among the soldiers, there was a tall, very tanned brunet young man trying to go inconspicuous. "Bloody hell! Is that the wee lad we're supposed to save? He's rather tall isn't he?"

Newkirk got up and almost fell down. "Blimey!" The improvised German team was taking positions. Although hidden in his coat, Newkirk could recognize Josh struggling to get away.

"What position is he playing?" Salisbury asked.

Cavendish chuckled. "He's the goalkeeper."

"Blimey!" Newkirk repeated the word. "Things get better by the minute don't they?"

"What does an American Indian know about football, anyway?" Salisbury shook his head.

Newkirk and Cavendish turned to look at the lieutenant. Newkirk rolled his eyes and Cavendish shrugged.

Meanwhile, daylight was fading away.

Newkirk blinked. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again.

"Can't see."

"Yeah, I want to turn my head away too-" Cavendish said.

"No, I mean it. Me eyes are blurred." He squinted but the silhouettes in the courtyard did not get clearer. "I've gone blind."

Salisbury held Newkirk's face in his hands. "Don't see anything wrong with your eyes. Are you in pain?"

Newkirk shook his head and pressed his eyes with the talon of his hands. "This never happened before."

"All right, don't panic... Although it might be the origin of the trouble, to begin with." He turned to Cavendish. "I'm not trying to compete with Sigmund Freud but I think he's suffering of hysterical blindness."

Cavendish laid one hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "Who the blazes sent you to do this job? Obviously you're in no condition."

"I can do this, really." Newkirk rubbed his eyes again. He gave his sight a try by looking up at the courtyard. He could see people moving around but everything was blurred and confusing. "How's it going? Are they playing yet?"

"Any minute now." Salisbury stared at Josh and chuckled. "If he takes off his coat, they're going to be surprised."

"I've got to talk to him." Newkirk reached for Salisbury's shoulder. " Help me, please."

Cavendish stood up too. "I'll gather my people and see what we can save from this mess."

Josh saw Newkirk coming closer and felt relieved. "Where were you?" he asked.

"Looking at you, putting the noose around your own neck." Newkirk scolded him. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"Apparently, playing with the boys here." Josh folded his arms and straightened up. "You were the one who told me to say _Jah_ to everything they say_. _By the way, what are we playing?"

"Football," Salisbury said.

"Oh, great. I hate football. My brother was the QB of our High School team and my father always rubbed my nose on it because I preferred..."

"Josh, Josh..." Newkirk raised his hand. "The other football game. You know, the one you play with your feet."

"Oh, much better. Soccer? That's a girls' game. I know nothing about soccer!"

"Keep your voice down, laddie. We don't want your friend players to see how good your English is, do we?"

"Sorry, who are you?"

"Lieutenant Salisbury, Royal Air Force," he tap his heels together and bowed.

Josh saluted. "Private Josh Goddard, sir."

"Don't salute me! And for the record, football is _not_ a girls' game."

Newkirk began to lose his sense of humor. "Back to the topic, please. We need a backup plan."

"What? Didn't you have one?" Josh narrowed his eyes on him. "You made me leave my cell to walk around in this uniform. By the way, did you notice I'm the only guard here that doesn't have a gun? If these guys find out that I'm not one of them, I'm pretty much dead."

"Come on, what happened with the pact and being prepared to die?"

"You opened my cell door, I'm half way free. I don't think today is such a good day to die. I just want to get out of here!"

"All right, all right, keep your knickers on, we'll get you out in a second. Just be prepared." Newkirk turned around and almost fell.

Salisbury was very near to hold him up.

"What's wrong with you?" Josh asked him and then looked up at the lieutenant.

"I'm all right," Newkirk drew back to recover his balance. "Just back off. I need to be left alone, all right?" His feet guessed their way back to the bench.

Salisbury looked at Josh staring warily as Newkirk walked away. He came closer and touched his arm. "No worries, lad, you'll be out of here tonight."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Newkirk said he'll get me out and he will." Josh shrugged. "But I'm concerned about him. He doesn't look well at all. What's he going to do when I'm gone and he doesn't have anything else to fight for?"

The lieutenant nodded. "It's all right, we'll be here to look after him. He won't be alone."

TBC

* * *

In the flashback: _Don't-Care_, an old children's rhyme

_(*) Do you play football?_

_(**) Do you want to play?_

_(***) Come with me_


	12. Chapter 12

_Peter did not remember much of that day in particular. It had rained early in the morning. He knew that he had been in bed long enough and it was time to get up. He started slowly. Every muscle complained about the lack of activity of the last three days. The fever had not fully broken but he could not afford to wait any longer._

_He leaned on the table. His legs obeyed; he would not fall down. His sight was still blurred and the dark in the room did not help. He wondered when they would turn on the lights on the cells. The guards seemed to be getting more indolent every day. He still had to wait two entire minutes._

_His eyes got used to the light very quickly while he looked around. Among the old things, there was something new. A small poem on the wall. _

_Peter's memory began to uncover last night's events. His friend Hamish had come to visit him but the high fever had erased almost every detail. He remembered saying goodbye, wishing him luck... Hamish must had left that message on his wall before leaving. _

_It was so much like Hamish to do such a thing. Newkirk had listened to him chanting that poem hundred times. Same lyrics, different melodies. Hamish was a funny man..._

ooOoo

Newkirk stormed out of the barrack. He thought that if he hurried up, he would be able to stop Hamish before he crossed the main gate. His heart beat faster as he looked around for his friend. He walked across the courtyard, then he ran. He could hear people behind him calling some name.

"Ludlow!"

Salisbury and Cavendish ran after Newkirk. The German guards were still in the game and did not notice anything at first. One of the sentry towers had just directed the light over the court so they could keep playing after sunset. Cavendish had arranged with his men to let the guards score several times. That would keep them happy and interested on the game for at least another hour. The strategy also served them to prevent the Germans from taking a good look of the Indian goalkeeper.

However, when Josh looked at his friend running towards the main building, he did not think twice before abandoning his post. He followed Newkirk, Salisbury and Cavendish.

Newkirk entered the building and succeeded in ducking several guards. He ran from one office to the next, always looking for the main door. The others came behind him, yelling his fake name and trying to reason with him. Josh, the faster of the three, tackled Newkirk inches away from the door. He pinned his back on the floor, holding him by his wrists.

"Newkirk! Stop!" He said.

"I told you to keep an eye on him," Cavendish scolded Salisbury.

"I did. I turned me back for a second. He said he just wanted to sleep." The lieutenant crouched to help Josh.

Newkirk shook his head and fought to get up. "I've got to stop him. Hamish must not leave!"

"Who is Hamish?" Salisbury asked.

Cavendish looked around. "This is your chance, boy. Get out of here," he whispered to Josh.

"But Newkirk-"

"He'll be fine, go!" Salisbury pushed him to take his place.

Josh sat on the floor staring at Newkirk, then at Cavendish and Salisbury. He hesitated until he saw the guards running towards them.

"I. Must. Stop. Him!" Newkirk kept yelling.

["Quick, I think someone went outside!"] Cavendish yelled at the guards. Then, he glared at Josh. His lips formed one silent word _Go!_

Josh understood. He got up and ran to the door with the guards.

Salisbury breathed with relief and grinned. "I thought he'd never leave." He looked down at Newkirk. "Do you believe he's just pretending?"

Cavendish leaned over the corporal and called him by the new name. "Newkirk? It's all right, the boy is gone."

Newkirk abandoned his struggle. "It's... too... late...," he mumbled. "I killed him... I killed him..."

ooOoo

Kommandant Ulrich Metzger stared at the three Engländer in front of him. He knew Captain Cavendish since the year before, and Lieutenant Salisbury who had just arrived almost 24 hours ago. The third man's face was familiar but his name escaped his memory. So far, he had given four different names. The kommandant had at least ruled one out. This man was definitely not Winston Churchill.

Newkirk shrugged at to every other question. He let his eyes drift around the office and his mind wandered miles away. He had a notion of Josh running out of the compound. The day was done and so was his mission. Nothing else mattered.

["I know him,"] Metzger stood up and adjusted his glasses. ["I'm almost sure he has been here before."]

["But Kommandant, he came last night with the other prisoners. If he was transferred before that, why would he come back? No one in their right mind would want to come back here, don't you think?"] Cavendish smiled.

["He doesn't seem to be in his right mind at all."] The kommandant smirked. ["Maybe one night in isolation will loose his tongue. We'll call the interrogator tomorrow morning. You can return to the barracks. I don't want more noise for tonight."]

["I request permission to accompany the corporal to his cell, sir."]

The kommandant approved the petition and dismissed the prisoners. He was still trying to remember where he had seen that corporal before. The files did not included pictures but he would go through all of the records hoping that one of the names would catch his attention.

Cavendish walked to the module of isolation cells with Newkirk and one guard. They went slowly because of the chains on the corporal's ankles. Before they got there, Newkirk decided to talk.

"I'm sorry, Cavendish."

"There you are," Cavendish said. "You had me worried for a while. What are you sorry for?"

"I went crazy out there. It could've been bad for your men."

"Nonsense. It was all in good fun." Cavendish smiled. "You put us to the test. Now I know that we can do this."

Newkirk nodded. "I hope you make it."

"I hope _you _make it too." The captain nodded. "We'll be praying for you."

They stopped in front of the cell door. Cavendish shook Newkirk's hand. "What you did today was reckless, irresponsible... and absolutely admirable. If I were your CO, I'd be very proud to have you in my unit." He straightened up and saluted him.

Newkirk saluted back. He was not used to military protocol. But he would make an exception for a man he had learned to admire in so little time.

"If you need anything at all-"

"I'll scream," Newkirk smiled.

Cavendish stood there until the guard locked the door. Then, he returned to the barracks.

Salisbury exhaled the smoke of his cigarette and half smiled when he saw Cavendish coming his way. "No doubt, this is the weirdest day of my life." He offered him his pack of cigarettes. "And I had some pretty wild ones back in me College years."

Cavendish took one cigarette. "You can say that again. This is the second escape in two days and yet, at roll call only last night's man was reported as missing. Metzger must be burning his eyelids over the files trying to figure out who the other prisoner is. I'd wish we could find the way to help Ludlow or Newkirk, whatever his name is, to escape before the interrogator comes tomorrow."

"There's not much we can do about it, but who knows?" Salisbury shrugged. "His organization might be better _organized_ than yours. If not, maybe the lad has another trick under his sleeves."

Cavendish tossed the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. "I'll keep a watch tonight, just in case something else happens. The night is not over and Newkirk is still here."

They went to their respective barracks.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Hogan looked at the woods, then at his watch and then, at the woods again. He had the feeling that Newkirk was not coming at all. He did not want to admit that after talking with LeBeau, Carter and Kinch, he had lost confidence in the Englishman. Definitely, this had not been the best mission for him. Too bad that Hogan had not realized that before sending him to the Dulag.

"He must be here in five minutes, or we'll have to go back without him." Bern said apologetically. "I'm sorry things didn't work out. You and your men have served greatly to our cause many times before. But you can't win them all , right?"

Hogan leaned on the hood of the car and shook his head. "He must be on his way. And things worked out." He turned to Bern. "Newkirk has never let us down. He might be late but he always comes back."

Steps in the forest alerted them. Bern produced his rifle and Hogan, his pistol. The night was too quiet. Any shot would be heard for miles. They did not intended to open fire unless it were a matter of life and death.

"Don't shoot!" Josh gasped. "American... unarmed."

"Get closer." Hogan did not put away his pistol. When he could see the young man's eyes he stopped him. "That's close enough. Tell me your name and why are you dressed like that?"

Josh bent over to put his hands on his knees. His breathing was still shallow as he struggled to talk. "I'm Private Josh Goddard, American Army...and I'm wearing this uniform because... well, it's a long story."

Hogan barely responded. "Make a summary."

Josh studied the men in front of him. "Are you Humpty Dumpty?

"What?" Hogan frowned.

"_In winter, when the fields are white, I sing this song for your delight,_" he shrugged, feeling silly to recite a children's rhyme.

Hogan stared at him with curiosity. "Where did you hear that?"

"I'm sorry, I was told to wait for the right answer before saying anything else." Josh clapped his hands on his back in position of attention.

Hogan smiled. Only two minutes with this boy and he liked him already. "_In spring, when woods are getting green, I'll try and tell you what I mean... _Now, who told you that line?"_  
_

"Newkirk... Corporal Newkirk, Royal Air Force, he told me to come this way and tell the rhyme to the first person I met... in a car like this one... one mile... north west... from..."

"He was supposed to say that line in person, what happened?"

"That's part of the long story." Josh felt Hogan glaring at him. "We changed clothes so I could escape in his place."

Hogan began to process the information but there were pieces that did not fit in the picture. He opened back door of the car and sat down on the step. "Josh, son, take your time and tell me the whole story."

ooOoo

The clock of Konsbach cathedral struck 8:30. The days ended faster in winter but the prisoners were allowed to stay up until 9:00. However, after the afternoon incident, the kommandant had established a second roll call right before the lights went off.

Captain Cavendish had returned to the office and spent an entire hour helping Kommandant Metzger to look into the files for the missing prisoner. Despite the captain's efforts to mess things around, Metzger had succeeded in finding the name of Josh Goddard. But he was still puzzled by the Engländer who claimed to be Angus McGuiness, Wiston Churchill, Peter Lorre and Humphrey Bogart.

["He does a good Bogart, though,"] Cavendish shrugged.

["I prefer James Cagney,"] Metzger said. ["I think I've seen his face before. I'm almost sure that he was a prisoner here sometime. If I could remember the year."] He kept shuffling papers and files. He took out his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

["It wasn't the last year, I'd remember him,"] Cavendish said.

One of the guards at the main door entered the office with a message for the kommandant. Some soldier was outside asking to see him.

["It's late,"] Metzger protested while waving to let the man in. ["Stay here, Cavendish and keep on looking."]

Hogan entered at a quick pace and saluted the kommandant. ["Kommandant Metzger, First Sergeant Dieter Burgmüller."] He barely showed him an ID card before putting it back in his pocket. ["I've been sent by the New Internal Affairs Commission to investigate certain incident regarding the prisoners and an attempt of escape."]

["So soon? I only reported it one hour ago."] Metzger frowned. ["And what's that commission about? Internal Affairs? Never heard about it."]

["Because it's new, aren't you listening?"] Hogan insisted without losing composure. ["Our Department supervises prison camps and such to avoid any violations to the Geneva Convention or the Red Cross' requirements. In other words, we clean up the mess before someone complains."]

["What do you want here exactly?"]

["I need to see the prisoners. I need to make an inspection of the camp and the condition of the prisoners."]

["At this hour? The prisoners are already in their barracks. I'm about to go to sleep myself."]

["Are you denying me access to the prisoners? Very well..."] Hogan took out a small notebook out of his pocket and began to write something down.

["Excuse me, what are you doing?"]

["I'm just taking some notes making it clear that you denied me access to the prisoners. Do you have a middle name?"]

["Otto..."]

["Very well, Kommandant Ulrich Otto Metzger, please sign this here and here..."] Hogan put the notebook on the desk. ["I'll write the report later, but we'll save time with your signature in triplicate. The boys in Berlin won't like this a bit. I always admire the men who stand by their principles, though. Most of them are on their way to Moscow as we speak..."]

["No, wait. Let's not be hasty,"] Metzger smiled. ["I said I don't have time, but someone else may give you the guided tour."] He called Cavendish. ["Captain Cavendish is part of our Staff, he can take you to the barracks and be your translator..."]

["Are you insinuating that I'm so stupid that I couldn't speak a second language?"]

["No, not at all,"] Metzger stepped back. ["It's just that some of the prisoners have their own dialects and sometimes it's hard to... well... Cavendish! Accompany Sergeant Burgmüller to the barracks."] He saluted and waited until they had left to sit down and sigh. That was the end of a perfect day.

Hogan walked next to Cavendish. He stared at the captain trying to decide whether it would be safe to talk to him. It would be just perfect to have someone else to trust in that place.

"So, you speak English, then."

"Yes, I do." Hogan put some accent on it. "And you're part of the kommandant's staff?"

"He loves me," he grinned and stopped. He looked around and then, he whispered. "I'm not a collaborator, if that's what you think. I don't believe you're from Berlin either. So, you can drop the accent. Why are you here?"

"You're not a collaborator? I suppose I have to take your word for it."

"I could show you a recommendation letter from my priest if you want me to." Cavendish shrugged. "But instead, I could take you to the man you're looking for. A British corporal, perhaps?"

"What makes you think I'm here looking for someone. I might be a collaborator spying on fake collaborators." Hogan narrowed his eyes.

Cavendish walked to a bench and sat down. He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Hogan. The colonel shook his head. Cavendish lit one for himself. "Listen, we can stay here trying to read each other's minds or we can trust our instincts." He inhaled and exhaled smoke. "Approximately two hours ago, there was a breakout in this camp. No one saw any prisoner running away, the population number is still the same as yesterday and yet, someone is missing from his cell."

Hogan almost said something but he waited for Cavendish to go on.

"The missing man walked away through the main gate wearing a German uniform." The captain grinned broadly. "The very same uniform and coat you're wearing now. Minus those bars. Is that foil paper?"

"From a pack of cigarettes." At this point, Hogan could not resist asking. "What gave me away?"

"That uniform was stolen from the laundry room early this morning. It's still wrinkled. The muddy stains came from a football match we played this afternoon. The coat, honestly, I don't know where he got it from."

Hogan checked his uniform as if for the first time. "It's certainly in bad shape, isn't it?" He snorted.

"Not that bad if we considered that you're the third man to wear it today."

"All right, I'll trust you," Hogan sat down. "I'd probably regret this later. I'm looking for one of my men."

"Newkirk?" Cavendish whispered the name. "He didn't give me his real name, but I heard the boy call him that."

"Do you know where he is?"

The captain pointed at one building on his right. "He's in the cooler."

"Have they-?"

"No, the interrogator won't come until tomorrow morning," he said. "They still don't know who he is or what he did. I think they doubt his sanity."

Hogan turned to him and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. He caused a brawl during the game. He was lucky the guards didn't open fire on him. That's when the prisoner ran for it."

"He staged a distraction, what's wrong with that?"

"Well, I just met him this morning, but it seems to me that he's been under a lot of stress." Cavendish finished his cigarette. "His behaviour has been erratic all day long."

"Erratic?"

"Chasing shadows, talking to invisible people," he sighed. "He went blind for almost one hour and, oh, yes, he fainted at least twice today."

"That doesn't sound like Newkirk at all."

"I don't know, I've seen cases like this before. Men who have spent too much time in combat suddenly snap." Cavendish said. "Maybe your man has reached the end of his line. Some people call it _shell shock_. You should ask for a replacement, don't you think?"

Hogan looked around and shook his head. "There are no replacements in our line of work. Besides, he's one of the best men I have. I wouldn't know how to replace him."

"Evidently, he is a very resourceful man. He managed to steal from the kitchen and the soldiers." He showed Hogan his pack of cigarettes. "He says he won this in a poker game, among other things. He's been only one day in the compound and the Germans are already talking about the Dulag's goblin who steals things from their bureaus ."

"Now, that one sounds like him," Hogan smiled.

"He managed to complete what he had planned, though." Cavendish shrugged. "Did the kid make it safely?"

"He is very impressed with the escape maneuver," Hogan said. "But I won't call this mission a success until I take Newkirk back with me."

"I'm afraid that unless you're a magician, that'd have to wait." Cavendish sighed. "Security is tighter tonight. The guards will shoot at everything moving from here to downtown."

Hogan smirked. "Unfortunately, the magician is in the cooler. I'll have to come out with a plan B, then." He looked at Cavendish. "Can you take me to Newkirk? I want to let him know that I'm here."

They came to the isolation module and stopped in front of Newkirk's cell.

"Is it wired?" Hogan whispered.

"Not anymore," Cavendish grinned.

Hogan insinuated that he was conducting a preliminary inquiry and the guard granted him 10 minutes with the prisoner. Cavendish waited outside.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Hogan entered the cell to find Newkirk in one corner tossing a coin. The corporal nodded but did not look at him.

"Do you know that it's likely that if you toss a coin three times, there are twice the probabilities of getting Tails Tails Heads than Tails Head Tails? And in three times, Tail Tail Heads is more probable than Heads Tails Tails-?"

"Newkirk," Hogan came closer.

Newkirk did not move while he kept flipping the coin. Up and down. Up and down. Hogan stared and waited.

"Newkirk," he insisted. He reached for the coin before it fell back in Newkirk's hand. The corporal looked up at him.

"Of course, there are other odds that you must take into account..." Newkirk tumbled forward. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Hogan caught him before he fell down. He made him sit on the bed and crouched in front of him. The first thing he noticed was Newkirk's sore wrists. He reached for a pitcher of water on the table and wet one corner of a blanket.

Newkirk shuddered as Hogan cleaned his skin under the shackles but he did not say anything.

"Does it hurt?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk shrugged. "Just a bit."

"Good. I should punch you on the nose for the things you make me go through."

Newkirk was caught off guard by the colonel's sudden outburst. "I'm sorry. I thought I could-"

"You thought?" Hogan glared. "Did you actually give it a thought? Didn't you think I could have something to say about all of this? You should've told me about your issues with this place." He met Newkirk's eyes. "Not to mention that you hadn't slept for over three nights before leaving for this mission." He finished with Newkirk's hands and sat on a chair nearby. "Have you slept at all since you left the Stalag?"

Newkirk shook his head with hesitation.

"That's almost five nights in a row! No wonder you've been hallucinating." Hogan was really mad now. "That's beyond irresponsible, Newkirk. You endangered the entire mission."

"I saved the kid, didn't I?" Newkirk raised his voice without caring that someone else would listen. "He was prepared to die, you know? He told me so. I couldn't leave him here to take his own life, could I?"

Hogan remained silent to allow things to calm down. Then, he nodded. "Sometimes I think you can read minds,"

"What?"

"Headquarters called regarding this mission. They gave us _carte blanche_ about Private Goddard. Meaning that he could not fall into enemy hands at any cost."

"So? You came here to finish the job or because you didn't trust I could do the right thing?"

"Neither. I came because I-" Hogan stood up and paced around. "Newkirk, everybody's been telling me about your problems, your acting weird... Just right outside, this captain, a complete stranger lectured me about how stressed you are. And I wonder, why didn't you talk to me in first place?"

"There's nothing to talk," Newkirk shrugged.

"Nothing to talk? You've been acting crazy!" Hogan had to make an effort to keep his voice down. "You actually went blind?"

Newkirk sighed. "Was it published in The Daily Telegraph? Listen, I was too stressed. The day was almost over, we were running out of time, ruddy Germans were everywhere. Got to get Hamish out of there-"

"Hamish? You mean Josh."

"Josh... right... of course."

Hogan sat down again. "I know what happened here. Your friends, Sommerled and Ross died... I understand that it must have been a nightmare but you're allowing things to get out of control." He laid one hand on Newkirk's knee. "How did that happen? How did they die?"

Newkirk shook his head. "Don't wanna talk about it."

"See? That's the problem. You don't talk. Newkirk, war is a bad thing. You come alone, make new friends and then, they die." He straightened up in his chair. "You're hurt, Newkirk. Maybe you haven't given yourself time to heal, you haven't grieved enough-"

Newkirk stood up so quickly that almost lost balance. "Not grieved enough? D'you wanna know why they're dead? I killed them... It was all my fault." He exhaled, trying to keep his breathing steady. "We planned the escape together. Flawless in every way... The night before deadline, I got really sick... The fever went up so fast I thought I was dying..." He walked to the wall. "I don't remember much of it but I think Hamish came to say goodbye... The day after the escape, I was still too sick to get up... I didn't know what happened and I couldn't ask anyone... Then, one of the guards," he gasped for air and closed his eyes for a second. "One of the guards came to me cell and told me that Hamish and Ned had been shot..." He pressed his eyes with two fingers to stop tears from coming. "He also said that I had talked...because of the f-fever... I talked in me dreams and gave them away..." Newkirk lowered his eyes. "I killed me friends, Gov'nor... They died because of me!"

"And you believed that? These guards would lie to their mothers to get what they want," Hogan said.

"What would they want from me? I was in me cell, sick as a dog... What else could've I bloody got that might interest them?"

"Newkirk, you'd tried to escape twice before that. How many more attempts did you make after the incident? They played with your mind... They broke you."

Newkirk shook his head. "No, no, no! I might've talked in my dreams... I knew about the escape. I planned it all meself!"

"And you have to punish yourself for it? What if you talked? You couldn't control that. Why do you keep punishing yourself?" Hogan came closer. "Why are you so angry?"

"I ain't angry-"

"Yes, you are. But not at yourself, right?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about! I just told you. I got me friends killed!"

"You're smarter than that. You know it wasn't your fault. Even if you'd talked in your dreams, you know it wasn't your fault." He grabbed him by the arms and looked him in the eyes. "Say it, Newkirk. Whose fault is this?"

"Mine! Who else is left to blame it on?"

"You tell me!" Hogan shook him. "Come on, Newkirk. Say it!"

"No!" He struggled to get himself free.

"Say it. Whose fault is this?"

"Theirs! All right? It's their bloody damn fault!" He withdrew into a corner. He gasped for air, clenched his teeth and shook his head. "They went out without me... they got killed... They got themselves killed and now they're gone... Can't tell them how stupid they were! They could've waited just another bleeding day..." Exhausted, he sank to the floor. He would not cry but the pain surfaced in his eyes. Hogan came to sit down next to him. "I should've been there... I should've died with them."

The colonel tapped him on the shoulder. "And deprive us from your charming company? Not bloody likely." He kept quiet to give Newkirk time to catch his breath.

"D'you think I'm going mad?"

Hogan smiled and then, he lowered his eyes. "I want you to listen to me. I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before." He made a pause. "The day I was shot down, I lost my two bombers. They were my friends. You don't get closer to anyone than to your crew members. And that day, I lost two of them." He rubbed his neck and sighed. "They hit us once but I thought I had it under control; I still had time to make a decent landing. Then, they hit us again. It was at the last minute, I couldn't dodge it. We went down fast. It happened in seconds. When I came to, one German unit had surrounded us and that was it."

Newkirk turned to look at him but he kept quiet.

"They separated me from my men and put me in one cell pretty much like this one. Twenty-nine days of nothing but me and my thoughts. No one to talk to, nothing to do. The only human contact I had was the hand that pushed the food and water through the door once a day. I could've gone crazy... and maybe I did for a while. I couldn't stop thinking of the men we left on the crash site. I had nightmares about that. Sometimes the nightmares followed me through the day. I couldn't tell what was real from what wasn't."

"How did you make it stop?" Newkirk said.

"I had to move on. The Intelligence operations with the Allies required all my attention. I had no time for brooding about anything anymore." Hogan looked pensive all of a sudden. "But it doesn't go away completely. I still have dreams where I save my plane. I figure out what is wrong and I take it back to London. All my men safe and sound back at home..." He smiled. Then, his mood changed again. "My biggest fear as a Commander Officer has always been having to write condolence letters to the families of the men who die under my watch. That's one thing I never wanted to do... When I was captured, those duties were carried out by other people. I suppose I felt relieved at being excused from that. Even so, I surprise myself making them in my mind... When I see you guys going up the ladder into another mission... and I wait for your return... Those minutes, hours or... even days, I write and rewrite the letters to your families... Then, we sit all together at the table and joke about what happened or didn't happen and I forget. " He sighed. "I know that I still have a couple of letters to write for the men I lost in that plane crash. I keep them in my head and someday I'll find the courage to put them on paper and send them after the war is over."

The silence set once more. But the energy had slowed down.

"You're not going mad, Newkirk... It's this place... the whole damn war... The world's gone crazy."

The Englishman leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. "Would you have done it, sir?" His voice was calmer now. "If I hadn't got Josh out of here, would you have come back and killed him?"

Hogan's eyes got lost in thought. He shook his head and turned to Newkirk. "I'd like to think that I wouldn't do it. This war hasn't dehumanized me that much yet." He breathed. "I would find how to please everybody... but you were faster than me... And if I came all this way it was because we were concerned about you."

Newkirk sat back on the bed and allowed himself to smile. "Concerned about me? After how I treated them the other day?" he said. "Can't wait to tell them how sorry I am."

Hogan was thoughtful while deciding how to deliver some bad news. He stood up and paced around the cell. He rubbed his neck while looking for the right word. "Speaking of which, I'm afraid I can't take you with me tonight."

"I figured that much." Newkirk got up but had to sit on the bed again.

"I can't think of a good excuse for a soldier to take a prisoner in the middle of the night without any papers or phone calls to back up my story. Besides, you're in no condition to make a run for freedom."

Newkirk leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "At least, I don't have letters to write, eh?" Newkirk said sadly.

Hogan forced himself to get back into real time. Talking about these previous experiences always left him sad and angry. It was like opening doors to a dark place in his mind that he would rather keep close. However, through his own pain, he could relate to Newkirk's. The Englishman would not last long in that place. Hogan had to do something and fast.

"Newkirk, I have to go now. I'll get you out of here, but in order to do that I need to go back to the Stalag. Do you understand?" He touched Newkirk's arm and noticed he was trembling. "I need you to do one more thing for me." He waited for the corporal to look at him. "I don't know what these people have in mind for you but please, Newkirk, you've got to keep yourself alive. Do you hear me? Please, hold on to whatever it takes. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"_Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go,"_ Newkirk quoted absently. He smiled at Hogan's puzzled look. "I read it somewhere... It's all right, Gov'nor, I'll be here tomorrow. I promise."

Hogan nodded. He would have to trust him. He stared at Newkirk for one last time. The corporal was again lost in his thoughts. Hogan wondered if he had said enough. Maybe he had said too much.

Captain Cavendish was still outside. In his eyes, Hogan could read that they were both on the same page . With no more time to talk, the captain promised him to be there for Newkirk and take care of him as much as he could until Hogan came back.

Hogan returned to the road where Bern and Josh were waiting. The way back to the Stalag was far from boring thanks to Josh's refreshing curiosity. Hogan answered as many questions as he could without giving away any secrets. But in the back of his head, he still felt the pressure of coming up with a good plan to get Newkirk out of the Dulag. The more he thought about it, the less inspired he felt. It seemed very likely that he would not get a shut-eye tonight. For once, Hogan was out of ideas.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

LeBeau stared at Josh and shook his head. "Mon Dieu, they're sending children to fight now?"

"I'm not a child," he complained. "I'm almost twenty."

"At least you finished High School?" Kinch frowned.

"Yes, I did; and first year of College." Josh was done with the straps of his boots and stood up.

"Perfect fit, for a change," Kinch teased LeBeau.

"It's good to get back on an American uniform. I feel almost at home already."

"You'll be there soon." LeBeau told him. "Once you get to London, America will be the next stop."

Josh shook his head. "Someday, but not too soon, I hope." He looked around. "Just like you, guys, my share of the war isn't over. I'm still in the code-talkers program. I'll go wherever they send me."

"That program of yours is amazing." Kinch nodded. "So simple and yet, so complex at the same time."

"Les Boches will never figure it out. Not in a million years." LeBeau folded his arms and smiled.

"They were too close when they shot down the plane I was on." Josh sat on the bench by the radio station. "I must confess that it got me worried for a while. I'd like to think that I hadn't talked but, I've never been tortured before."

"It's okay," Kinch smiled. "In wartime you can't stop to think about the _what ifs. _It's all about what happened and what didn't happen."

"Mais oui, otherwise, it'd drive you crazy," LeBeau agreed. "You're safe now. That's the only think that matters."

"Yes, thanks to Newkirk." Josh felt that he had struck a chord. Newkirk's friends were still concerned and praying for his return. "Sorry..."

"No, it's all right," LeBeau said. "We'll get him out of that place very soon."

"Sure, the colonel must be coming out with a plan as we speak," Kinch struggled to look positive.

ooOoo

Hogan felt Carter behind him since he entered his office. The sergeant had not moved much in five minutes and tension began to grow in the air.

"What is it, Carter?" Hogan pretended to read some old newspapers on the table. "You're making me nervous... If it's about Newkirk. I told you all already, he's doing fine. We'll get him out of there soon."

"How soon is that?"

"Soon... I don't know, I'm still sorting ideas."

"With all due respect, sir. I think you're taking too much time, Newkirk should've been back by now." Carter felt his jaw trembling. "Who knows what he's been going through."

"He's fine. I saw him. He had a rough time but he's coping. We talked-"

"You might have seen him but you didn't _look_ at him." Carter stepped forward. "You don't know Newkirk as well as I do. When he says he's okay, he's actually falling apart. When he yells that he doesn't need help, he's screaming for his friends to come after him. He wasn't okay when he left yesterday. I don't know what it is, and he won't tell me, but something is bugging him big time and-"

"Carter, I know what's wrong with Newkirk," Hogan said. "He told me."

Carter stared in disbelief. He lowered his tone and sat at the table. "Wow, he actually talked to you about his problem? Good. Well, you're his CO... I suppose he felt better confiding his problems to you than to his best friend..."

"Carter-"

"I'm okay with that," he shrugged. "You're old and wise..." He suddenly turned to Hogan. "I-I mean, you're wise... not that you're old, old like to be Newkirk's father... He hates his father, anyway... Not that he told me so... I don't know his father at all..."

"Carter, it's all right. We talked and the story came out, okay? You're still his best friend, and I'm just the senior officer of this camp... old and wise."

"You're the authority, sir. We all look up to you... Like Gary Cooper in _Sergeant York, _or Humphrey Bogart in_ Passage to Marseille._" Carter exhaled and regrouped. "Too bad that you're not in charge of this camp, eh? You could walk into that Dulag and ask for Newkirk's release ASAP."

"I'd like to see myself like John Wayne in _Reunion in France_, actually," Hogan smiled. He would add something else but the sound of a motorcar interrupted their conversation. He went to the window.

"Who's coming at this hour? Klink?" He frowned . "I didn't know he had gone out so early."

"Oh, yeah. I think he's just coming back from last night," Carter grinned mischievously. "Schultz says he went to see a Fraulein in town."

Hogan raised his eyebrows. "Klink has a girlfriend? Of her own will? She's not working for us?"

"Nope, and in his favour, I must say that he did have the night off," Carter joked. "Hard to believe that the old Kommandant still has some flame burning inside."

"Still? I thought he never had one," Hogan snorted.

"Oh, who knows? Sometimes women see beyond the evident. Maybe Colonel Klink is more dazzling and imposing than he looks... Or maybe it's just the uniform."

Hogan barely reacted to Carter's remarks. The cogwheels in his brain were finally working on a plan. "Carter, you're a genius," he said before going out.

The sergeant stared at the door, then at the window and at the door again. He would wait for Hogan to explain his brilliant idea to Kinch or LeBeau. Then, he would ask them for a translation.

ooOoo

Schultz was going his rounds when he saw Hogan coming out of Barrack 2. The sergeant could guess where he was heading and he hurried to step in his way.

"Halt! Where are you going?" He did his best to look professional.

"Where do you think? To see our Kommandant." Hogan kept on walking.

Schultz jumped in front of him. "The kommandant is not in his office."

"Of course he is, I just saw him coming from town." Hogan grinned. "He has a new girlfriend, hasn't he?"

"He's busy. He's not receiving anyone."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to him yet. You were at the other side of the camp when he arrived." He stopped for just a moment. "I have something very urgent to tell him, you know?"

"Yes, I know," the sergeant said putting his rifle in front of him, ready to tackle Hogan if it was necessary. "And it's not a good time to tell him."

"Oh, yeah? What do you think I'm gonna tell him, anyway?" Hogan folded his arms over his chest and stared at him.

"Yesterday you told me that Newkirk would be here this morning and he's not. So, I think you're going to tell Kommandant Klink that the Engländer is missing."

"By George, Schultz, I think you're into reading minds now." Hogan grinned again.

"No, but I'm into saving heads. My head. Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink is very busy and very angry. If you tell him about Newkirk, I'll be in big trouble."

"But, if I don't tell him and he finds out, we all be in big trouble. He'll cut down our rations, and our privileges, and who knows what else." He met Schultz in the eye. "Tell me, Schultz, are you allergic to furry coats? Because you're gonna be wearing those by dozens in Russia." He surrounded the sergeant and resumed his way.

"Colonel Hogan, please..." Schultz ran and stopped him right at Klink's door. "Can't we just pretend that Newkirk is sick again and cannot come out of bed?"

"Believe me, Schultz. This might be just one of those blessings in disguise. You know, like the Fall of the Roman Empire, the French Revolution, the Defeat of Nazi Germany..."

"Colonel Hogan..."

"Oh, yes, that one's still to come." Hogan reached for the doorknob.

Kommandant Klink heard voices out of his office. He did not bother to look up and see who was coming. After all those years in Stalag XIII, he did not even need to guess that it had to be Hogan.

"Hogan, whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no. I don't have time." He turned one sheet of paper and stamped his signature three times.

"Certainly. It's remarkable that after one passionate night, you're up and around doing work and all."

"I'm entitled to one night away from this place. There's nothing wrong with it..." Klink stopped to look up at Hogan. "And I don't have to give you any explanation. My private life is private!" He signed another document.

"I understand, Colonel Klink, but I thought you should know something-"

"Not now. I have forty forms of requisition that have to be filled and signed by triplicate, and General Burckhalter wants them for Friday. I only have three more days for this!"

"All right, in that case, I'll ask Newkirk to send you a thank you note from London."

Klink reacted after signing the third form. He looked up at Hogan's triumphant gaze and sighed. "What is it with Corporal Newkirk? What has he done this time? And why would he send me a thank you not-?" Suddenly, his eyes opened wide and he sprung up from his chair. "Has he escaped again?"

Hogan took his time to shrug and cross his arms in front of his chest. "I didn't know how to tell you this, you've been so busy and all. So thoughtless of him don't you think?" He shook his head.

"But when did that happen?" Klink began to review the reports on the prisoners. "Why wasn't I notified? Where's Schultz? Schultz!" He yelled the sergeant's name several times.

Hogan waited a minute before talking again. "He was here for yesterday's calisthenics, Newkirk, I mean." He grinned mischievously. "He must have escaped last night after supper. I thought he was going for a walk," he shrugged.

"A walk? After supper? Where does he think he is? The Athenaeun Club in London?" Klink stopped looking into the files to yell for Schultz again.

The sergeant reluctantly appeared at the door. He gently smiled. "Did you call, Kommandant?"

"Step in once and for all!"

Schultz recognized that tone and jumped to attention position. "Sergeant Schultz reporting to service, sir!"

"Service? I have just learned that one of the prisoners escaped last night. What do you know about that?"

Schultz's first reaction was to deny everything, but that would be like begging to be sent to the Russian front right away. He turned to see Hogan innocently shrugging at every question. "Colonel Hogan? Was it you?"

"Colonel Hogan just informed me that Corporal Newkirk is not in the Stalag," Klink finally stopped shouting. Schultz and Hogan knew that it was just like the calm before the storm. "Weren't all prisoners present and accounted for roll call this morning?"

"Er- well-," Schultz stammered as he remembered the blond man sinking his head in the Englishman's coat while the sergeant counted heads. He had trusted Hogan when he said that Newkirk would return soon. Something had changed. "H-he looked like the Engländer," he stammered.

Klink's face went red as he clenched his teeth. "Don't stay there like an idiot waiting for the next train! Call the guards, release the dogs! Search the area and don't come back until you find that British trouble maker!" He turned to Hogan with the same enraged expression. "The prisoners will remain confined to the barracks, there will be head counting every hour! Dismiss!"

Schultz grabbed Hogan by one arm and walked outside. "See what you did? Now I'll have double work and you can't come out of your barrack." Schultz shook his head. "Why does Newkirk keep on doing these things to us? I'm getting too old for his pranks."

"Relax, Schultz, everything is going according to plan."

"What plan?"

Hogan sketched a grin. "Do you _really _want me to tell you?"

"No, no!" Schultz shook his head. He opened the door of Barrack 2 and invited all the prisoners to get inside. "I see nothing, I know nothing!" He turned to Hogan. "Just make things right. I don't want any more problems."

"Piece of cake," Hogan said and closed the door behind him.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Lieutenant Friedhelm Engelwald shifted on his chair almost at the same time that the prisoner in front of him shifted on his feet. It had been a long morning waiting to hear this man's voice. So far, he had been the only one talking in the room, repeating the same question over and over again.

"Name? Your name!" He took a deep breath. The room was very warm. This interrogation technique of raising the heater to overwhelm the prisoners always backfired on the interrogator. He loosened his tie while trying another approach.

"Why don't you save us time and tell us your name? Your real name, please."

Newkirk stretched his neck and moved his feet to allow the blood to circulate up and down his legs. The guard behind him stroke him on the back of the head just as a reminder to keep his position. Newkirk stumbled but straightened up almost immediately.

Engelwald glared at the guard. He just hated unnecessary use of force. Patience was more his style. He knew that he was minutes away from breaking Newkirk. The Engländer could not go on without drinking or sitting for much longer.

"Just tell me your name and I'll let you sit down."

Newkirk smirked. _Big deal_, he thought. What did they need his name for anyway? To put it on his grave so his family could come and visit it after the war?

"One more time. I need your name. Now!" Engelwald nodded at the guard and Newkirk clenched his teeth anticipating the pain.

He did not feel anything at first but his legs weakened suddenly. He fell down on his knees with a pounding headache. "Easy, mate. I've only got one head!"

"Oh, he _does_ talk," Engelwald grinned. "May we continue now? Who are you? Whom do you work for? Why did you come here?"

"Nobody. Nobody and... no idea," Newkirk said while struggling to get up and compose himself.

"You're not a brilliant man. It will take more than a silly joke to get you out of here." Engelwald took his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his forehead. The heat was getting unbearable. He walked to the door and unlocked it. "Just one question. Answer one question and I'll let you go to cool off in the yard. I think it's been snowing." He turned to Newkirk. "One name, please. You'd have to be crazy if you turned down my offer."

Newkirk chuckled, then giggled. "Stop it!" He laughed.

"What? What is it?" Engelwald leaned forward.

"Hamish." Newkirk could not stop laughing.

"Hamish? Is that your name?"

"No! Me friend over there," he pointed at one darkened corner in front of him. "He keeps telling those jokes..." He sat on the floor and laughed louder.

"What are you talking about? Are you crazy?"

Newkirk wiped off some tears with his sleeve and shook his head. "So sorry, h-he's just too much!" He gasped for air. "H-he says that the other day, he was having dinner with Alexander Alekhine and there was a checked tablecloth... It took Alekhine two hours to pass him the salt." He bent forward, laughing.

The guard behind him snorted but composed himself immediately. Engelwald was getting mad.

"Speaking of which, the other day someone told me that I reminded him of a pepper-pot..." Newkirk's voice weakened with laughter. "I took it as a condiment! Got it? Condiment!" He nodded to the guard that was already losing his battle against the giggles. "So, I said to the gym instructor, _"Can you teach me to do the splits?"_ And he said, _"How flexible are you?"_ I said, _"I can't make Tuesdays."... _Speaking of exercise, we don't need more physical training: Everyone here gets enough exercise. The guards _jump_ to conclusions and _carry_ things too far, while the prisoners _dodge_ our responsibilities and _push_ our luck!"

The guard burst out laughing.

Newkirk was merciless. "Stop me if you heard this one already: Hitler and Göring are standing on top of Berlin's radio tower. Hitler says he wants to do something to cheer up the people of Berlin. Göring suggests, _"Why don't you just jump?" _He rolled on the floor while the guard had to lean against the wall.

Engelwald grabbed the guard by the neck and yelled at him. "Compose yourself, idiot! You're laughing at the Führer!"

Newkirk took advantage of the brief distraction to throw himself to the door and run outside. The chains in his ankles limited his movements but at this point, he was not sure about what his next step would be. He stopped in the middle of the backyard and turned around. His mind blurred again when the echoes of distant voices got him distracted. He heard himself laughing and yelling at Hamish over a volleyball match. On one corner nearby, Ned Ross cursed on his British friends and shook his head.

"_Next week, it'll be warmer... we'll sneak behind the Jeep and cross the gate on the right side."_ He heard Ned whispering in his ear.

"_We'll wait right under the sentry tower... Then, we'll walk through the forest to Reissberg's farm..."_ Hamish mumbled.

"No, they'll wait for you by the river..." Newkirk's voice trembled. "You won't have a chance..." He saw both men running toward the main gate. His breathing was too shallow and his throat too dry to yell but he did anyway... Someone had to stop them.

ooOoo

Captain Cavendish had been trying to convince Kommandant Metzger of moving Newkirk to the barracks. Over again, the answer had been the same. They needed his real name and a convincing story of how he had got there. The kommandant was in the last pile of files and did not pay much attention to anything else around him. Suddenly, he jumped and shouted, "Eureka!" He took one file and showed it to the British captain.

["Corporal Peter Newkirk! Royal Air Force. He was here three years ago!"]

Cavendish had to step aside while Metzger danced around.

["He performed two escapes. Very funny and inventive, we laughed for months."] Metzger looked relieved and proud of himself. ["I remember them as if it were yesterday. There were other two men with him... Ned Ross and... one clown..Sommerled?..."]

"_Hamish!"_

["That's right, Hamish Sommerled!"] Metzger said before realizing someone was screaming that name in the backyard. He saw Cavendish running outside and he had to follow him.

Newkirk was in the center of the place, surrounded by guards aiming their rifles at him. He did not seem to care or notice them at all while looking around for something else.

Cavendish ran to place himself between Newkirk and the guards. ["Don't shoot!"] He raised his hands and turned to Metzger. ["Kommandant, please."]

Metzger ordered his men to stand by and lower down their weapons. He saw the captain walking towards Newkirk.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Newkirk shuddered at the contact of his sweaty skin with the cold air. He looked at one point on the wall. "H-Hamish, I'm sorry..." he mumbled. "I let Ned and you down... I-I wanted to go with you..." his teeth chattered and one tear rolled down his cheek. He fell on his knees and lowered his head. "I'm so tired... so tired..."

"Newkirk," Cavendish said laying one hand on the Englishman's head. "Got to get up, lad. Come on."

Newkirk raised his eyes to the wall in front of him. "They're here no more..."

Cavendish helped him back on his feet but did not let him go. He feared that if he did so, the guards would take the opportunity of shooting at him. In his present state, Newkirk would not have a chance.

Metzger felt that it was safe for him to get closer. He walked resolutely toward both prisoners. ["What's the meaning of this?"] He turned to one side. ["Engelwald! I demand an explanation."]

["The prisoner staged a distraction and I fell for it. I have no excuse."] He tapped his heels together and lowered his head as though waiting for punishment. ["I didn't think he would try to escape. He's still in chains."]

["We'll talk about that later. The important thing is that I've just remembered who the prisoner is."] Metzger grinned as he approached the Englishmen. ["I never forget a face. Once I saw the name, I knew it was him. Corporal Peter Newkirk."]

Cavendish and Newkirk exchanged glances. The corporal shrugged and nodded. "Hello, again."

The captain snorted. He had met disdainful soldiers before, but Newkirk was at the top of the list. He was at the verge of collapsing by exhaustion, had not eat or sleep in days but he kept the control of his game. He did not even pretend to care about authority at all.

["I see you escaped from your Stalag. Why did you come back here?"]

Newkirk turned to Cavendish and waited for him to translate. For every purpose, he did not speak German.

"I don't know." He played the best impersonation of himself going crazy. "I started walking and my feet brought me back... I needed to see..."

["See what?"]

"If they were still here..." His eyes opened wide as he looked around.

["They who?"]

"The ghosts..." Newkirk whispered.

Metzger stared at him for a moment. He frowned. ["What nonsense is he talking about?"]

["Obviously he's not in his right mind."] Cavendish intervened. ["He's been acting weird. ]

["He's just putting on an act!"] Engelwald protested. ["Kommandant, give me more time. I'll make him talk. I know he's up to something."]

["It's not an act, I've seen him talking to shadows,"] Cavendish said. ["My men can testify about that."]

Newkirk giggled and shook his head. "_The lightning and thunder, they go and they come, But the stars and the stillness are always at home..._" he quoted from an old rhyme.

Engelwald opened his mouth to say something but Metzger stopped him. ["I can't tell if he's gone crazy or just pretending. It's obvious that someone must be crazy to come back here of their own will. But we have to discuss this further. In the meantime, put the prisoner in isolation."]

["Kommandant, let me go with him. In his present condition, he might try to hurt himself. I'll keep an eye on him."] Cavendish said.

Metzger granted the request and took Engelwald to his office.

Two guards pushed Cavendish and Newkirk inside the building and to the coolers. The captain actually breathed with relief when they were locked and left alone.

ooOoo

Newkirk walked back and forth, with his eyes on the floor. He was cold and shaky as he tried to bring his breathing down to a normal rate. He finally turned to Cavendish and snorted. "You saved me head out there, mate."

Cavendish frowned. "What the bloody hell was that all about, anyway? Did you finally lose your mind?"

"I hope not." He sat on the bed and shook his head. "It took all the energy out of me, though. I hadn't laughed so hard in years."

"Would you explain to me what you're talking about? Was that all an act?"

"Sure," Newkirk shrugged. "Most of it. They were about to hang me by me thumbs. I'd got to do something."

"You were quite convincing." He folded his arms over his chest and glared. "You may take advantage of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Metzger and Engelwald are discussing your case as we speak. If they suspect you've gone insane, the kommandant might consider repatriation on humanitarian grounds. Of course, they'll need confirmation from some Swiss authority. But if you can keep your act till the last consequences, you might be heading home very soon."

"Repatriation for insanity?" Newkirk went pale. "Blimey! I didn't think of that."

"What? Don't you want to go home?"

"Why, yes but... I can't. I've got a job to do... Me friends need me here." He pressed his hand against his forehead. "I don't feel too good..."

Cavendish came closer. "Lie down. You've been up and about for too long already." He spread a blanket over Newkirk. "You need to sleep."

"No, no... don't have time for that..." He grabbed Cavendish's arm. "Captain, please... I can't..."

Cavendish smiled. "Now I'm the captain?" He sat at the edge of the bed. "Listen, Corporal. I promised your Commander Officer that we'd take care of you. Nothing has to be done for the moment. You'll need your strength for later. I'll wake you up in fifteen, okay?"

Newkirk was not convinced but his eyes closed against his will. Soon, the world faded away and his mind drifted into another dimension.

TBC

* * *

Alexander Alekhine was the 4th World Chess Champion (1937-1946.) The original joke is about having dinner with Kasparov (world chess champion 1985- 1993, 1993-2000.)

Other jokes came from different sources, I don't take credit for any of them. :)


	17. Chapter 17

["You lost one of your prisoners! That's outrageous! I'm shocked! Startled! Very upset."]

LeBeau had to covered his mouth to prevent a giggle. Kinch just turned his head, trying to avoid eye contact with his friends. Carter's impersonation of a German General was too hilarious.

_["I understand, General Jürgens. Stalag Thirteen is a maximum security prison. No one escapes from here. It was really unexpected and-"]_

["Of course, it was unexpected! What did you want, an invitation to see him jumping off the gate? You were lucky that my anonymous informer came to me first than to General Burckhalter."] Carter gesticulated against the radio as though Klink were right in front of him. ["But that doesn't matter now. The important thing is that he's been found and you must claim him back!"]

_["Absolutely, General Jürgens. You've been extremely generous to call in person and let me know where the prisoner is. I'll make a phone call and send my sergeant to-"]_

["You're not going to make any damn phone call! This is a matter of honor, Colonel Klink! You must go in person!"]

_["Me? In person? But I have a lot of paperwork to do. General Burckhalter is coming on Friday-"]_

["And don't you think General Burckhalter will like to see all your prisoners accounted for? I didn't have to call you, Klink but I hate seeing Burckhalter abusing minor, insignificant, meaningless officers. It was a good thing that I have eyes and ears all around the Dulags and Stalags. I'm a very important General, you know? Feared and respected. Dreadful and admired..."] Carter looked at Hogan signing him for go on. He nodded. ["Er- Well, Colonel Klink. As I was saying, you must go to Dulag Konsbach in person. You, in person, today! Understood? Repeat the message, please."]

Kinch had to step back before he burst up laughing.

_["Today. I'll go in person, yes sir. Heil H-"]_

["Move!"] Carter hung up before Klink finished his salute. LeBeau and Kinch laughed out loud.

"Ça a été superbe, mon ami," LeBeau applauded.

"You scared him so much that he didn't even bother to ask who General Jürgens actually was." Kinch shook his head.

"I could've done it better but I didn't have time to rehearse." Carter shrugged modestly. "How long till we have Newkirk back, Colonel?"

"We still have another phone call to make before Klink gets to the Dulag." Hogan looked up the number in his notebook and turned to Kinch. "Here it is. Your turn, Captain Preminger. Holt Preminger. You're calling Colonel Ulrich Metzger. He's like Klink's distance cousin. Just shake him a little and he'll fall for it."

Kinch dialed the number. "Next month's phone bill is going up," he joked.

"Colonel Klink pays, as always," Hogan finished writing down some lines on his notebook. He sat down next to Kinch. "All right, this is what you have to tell him."

Kinch had to laugh and shook his head. "With all due respect, sir, have you been drinking LeBeau's wine?"

ooOoo

["He's pretending. I can prove it. I just need more time,"] Engelwald insisted.

Metzger shook his head. He kept Newkirk's file opened on his desk. ["He is been here twice and he has been presenting unusual behavior. I can't ignore that. If there is a possibility that the prisoner is insane, it must be investigated."]

Engelwald rolled his eyes. ["I know these kind of prisoners. They play with everybody's minds and make them believe what they want. They manipulate the system to get away with-"]

["Lieutenant, I don't try to step on your territory but I've seen cases like this before. If we don't report it, someone else will and the Red Cross will crush us with protests and demands. Last night some sergeant came from a commission of internal affairs asking to inspect the camp and the prisoners' status. He threatened me to denounce any irregularity to Berlin. Public opinion would crucify us."] Metzger stood up. ["I must do what I think is right. I've always played by the rules, Engelwald, and I won't make an exception with this case."] He went to pick up the phone. ["I'm calling the local hospital to send us a doctor. I want a complete evaluation of the prisoner's physical and mental condition."] He was about to dial the secretary buzzed him first.

[_"Her Kommandant, you have a call from Captain Holt Preminger on line one."]_

Metzger accepted the call out of curiosity. ["Never heard that name before,"] he said to Engelwald.

OoOoo

"You withdraw thirteen, if the four devils don't show up after three attempts, you lose."

"It doesn't seem too complicated."

Newkirk rolled over on his left side and rested his head on his hand. Cavendish was sitting on the floor at the opposite side of the cell. "You play with the odds. It has to be easier since you take only thirty-two from the usual fifty-two cards." He paused for a second. "I know another one that is almost impossible to win-"

"You could write a book on Solitary games."

"They're quite useful when you're in the cooler."

"Do you get there often?"

"Every other day. When the situation calls for it... or I honestly deserve it." Newkirk grinned.

_What a handful he must be_, the captain thought. He must kept his CO on his toes all the time. Cavendish did not know if he should feel sorry for Hogan or envy him for having such an ingenious man in his unit.

"How much longer would it take for those Krauts to decide on me future?" Newkirk sighed.

"That depends on how much of your story they believe. So far is a tie with Metzger on your favor." Cavendish said. "Have you given it a thought?"

"About what? Getting me a pension for _soldier's heart_?" Newkirk lied flat on his back. "It's rather tempting, you know? I'd love to go back home, see me family but-"

"I know, war is not a cause you can abandon just like that, especially when you leave your friends behind." Cavendish looked at him for a moment. "I don't want to pry but it seems to me that you could use long holiday far away from all of this."

"Look, I'm fine. I slept a bit and I feel better already." Newkirk shrugged.

"You didn't sleep more than five minutes." Cavendish shook his head. "Exhaustion is not a bad word, Newkirk. It can happen to any of us. After all, we're living under extraordinary conditions here. It doesn't have to be the end of everything, though."

"Hey, I'm not going mad." Newkirk sat up. "I've been having a couple of bad days but that's it. I know my friends are dead; they're not talking to me... I know it's all on me head..." He snorted. "Of course, mad people are the last ones to admit it, right?"

"At least you still laugh about it."

"You've got to go with the things that make you laugh... That's what me ol' man told me... right before he kicked me out of the house."

"His loss," Cavendish stood up. "I'll work on Metzger. You can stay with us. We're your friends now; we'll take care of you until you feel better. Besides, we can use your brains and fingers in our escape operations."

"I appreciate your offer. I'll keep it in mind if nothing else comes out."

"Any time." He headed for the door. "I'll go to the main office and see what the final result is. You get some rest. Do you hear me?"

Newkirk stared at the captain for a moment. "You begin to sound like me CO." He laughed. "It's this what officers are good for?"

ooOoo

Hogan and his men stood at the front door of their barrack watching Colonel Klink going away. He gesticulated and bossed Schultz around while getting in his car. Although it was inaudible, the scene was rather funny. Schultz and the colonel made a perfect comedy team.

"They could be as famous as Laurel and Hardy." Hogan smirked.

"Do you think he can get Newkirk back?" Carter asked with concern in his eyes.

"Kinch is endorsing him with Kommandant Metzger right now," he said. "Let's hope that's enough to build up a legend out of this man. It's out of our hands now."

"He'd better not to blow this up," LeBeau said.

"Can you believe it? After all these years, our best man turned out to be Colonel Klink," Carter snorted.

Hogan sighed and shook his head. "What have we made of this war, boys?"

ooOoo

_["Colonel Klink's prisoners have priority by all means. Do you understand? The man is insane; he basically does whatever he wants. I'm not trying to provoke any controversy, it's just that I'm sick and tired to see poor officers suffering at his expense."] _Kinch raised his voice stressing every other word.

["Absolutely, but there are still questions that need to be answer. We can't exchange prisoners here and there without a good explanation. The Englishman appeared out of nowhere and we haven't finished collecting information."]

_["Very well then, you'll explain that to the colonel when he gets there. Ah, and don't forget to put all your papers in order before you leave."]_

["Leave? I'm not going anywhere. I'm the kommandant of this place"] Metzger frowned when he heard a laugh through the speaker.

_["Do you think I don't have better things to do with my time rather than calling camp kommanders? Sergeant Dieter Burgmüller from my Department of External Affairs, informed me about the incidents in your Dulag. We have reports that one of your prisoners actually escaped from Stalag Thirteen. Someone in Berlin called Klink about that too. Sorry to say this but your status may change as soon as Colonel Klink learns that you're not cooperating with him. He is very serious regarding the record of zero escapes in his Stalag. If things don't go his way, well, he finds other ways. He's got connections, you know?"]_

Kommandant Metzger straightened up on his chair. ["Connections?"]

_["His best friend, General Burckhalter enjoys sending people to the Russian front."]_

["But, there are still many facts to consider here. We need to know why the prisoner was under another prisoner's name, someone else escaped in his place and we still don't know why he came back here after three years."]

_["Listen, Colonel Metzger, I just called to spare whomever is dealing with Klink the discomfort and sorrow. My Comission of Internal Affairs is also on the line of fire for this. If that prisoner doesn't return to Stalag XIII with Kommandant Klink, we'll have fireworks. I know this man and he's not called the Beast of Hammelburg for nothing."]_

["The Beast of Hammelburg?"] His expression went from upset to suspicions.

_["You haven't heard about the Beast of Hammelburg? Indeed, I've lived long enough to meet one person that never heard that name before."] _Kinch laughed maliciously. _[_"_Sure, everybody knows about his temper from hell. He doesn't hesitate to strike anyone standing in his way. When he adjusts his monocle beware of the cane in his hand. I didn't and, well, now I wear a monocle myself."] _Kinch made a pause before going on. _["Who needs glasses with just one eye, right?"]_

The kommandant took a deep breath. ["I-I don't know. So, he has a bad temper, I see... But all the facts with this prisoner-"]

_["Bad temper? If you don't do what he says, he'll kill you, do you hear me? He'll kill you! Do yourself a favor, Metzger, lose the papers and forget this prisoner. It's not worth it."]_

["But we're still interrogating him. He's not talking, Captain. I suspect that he's not in his right mind."]

_["Hasn't it occurred to you that he's not talking because he doesn't know anything? I tell you, just release the man to the colonel now that he's still in a good mood. No harm done, especially to yourself."]_

["I appreciate your concern, we haven't even met. You're very kind."] Metzger shook his head. ["I'll try to make him understand my position and-"]

_["All right, do it your way, but be very careful. I understand that he's travelling with his watch dog. A giant bear called Schultz. Just don't make him mad and you'll be safe."]_

The conversation ended with the usual salute to Hitler. Kommandant Metzger hung up.

["Problems, sir?"] Engelwald began felt his battle was lost.

["Get the prisoner ready."] Metzger sighed. ["We're having some visitors."]

["For the Engländer? Who's coming?"]

["Colonel Klink from Stalag XIII."]

["They're coming for the prisoner?"]

["Maybe, maybe not."]

["The interrogatory must go on. The prisoner must not be taken away."]

["Engelwald, I know your position, and I know Kommandant Klink's position. But I have one of my own too and I'll defend it against you both."]

Engelwald narrowed his eyes but remained silent.

TBC

* * *

_Ça a été superbe, mon ami! (That was excellent, my friend!)_

Exhaustion (aka Shell shock and later on, Post Traumatic Disorder): Psychiatric evaluation and treatment did not start until 1944.

_Soldier's heart_ Psychosomatic disorder, considered as part of a list of _post war syndromes. _


	18. Chapter 18

Schultz could not believe how fast he was driving until they arrived to Konsbach in less than two hours. He did not like travelling with Colonel Klink. He yelled at the other cars, at the people crossing their way, at Schultz for going too fast or too slow. The poor sergeant could not wait to get there as fast as the car was capable of taking them.

When they crossed the main gate of the Dulag, Schultz noticed certain expectation in the air. The guards stared at them with something that could be interpreted both ways, hostility or fear. He smiled at everyone, but most of the guards avoided eye contact with him. He heard them whispering and stopping every time he turned around. After the story of _The Beast of Hammelburg_ and _Schultz, the Giant Bear_ began to circulate, the guards had prepared for the unwanted visitors.

Kommandant Metzger welcomed Colonel Klink at the door of the main building. He was kind and festive as he showed the visitors the facilities. He even brought Captain Cavendish to speak on behalf of the prisoners.

["I'm rather impressed by the way you run this camp. And I'd like to have more time to see it further, but I need to go back to the Stalag immediately. If you could bring my prisoner,-"]

Metzger turned to Lieutenant Engelwald and smiled. He invited Klink to his office.

["I'm afraid there is a small problem that needs to be solved before I give you the prisoner."] Kommandant Metzger smiled. ["It's about the prisoner's mental state-"]

["What do you mean? His mental state?"]

["He has been presenting episodes of hallucinations and overall unusual behavior that makes me believe he must be mentally unstable."]

["Are we talking about Corporal Newkirk?"] Klink laughed. ["He's the most astute man you can find. He could sell you Strasbourg Cathedral for all that matter. He's not crazy at all. I can assure you."] He turned to Schultz who nodded and snorted.

["The Engländer is a legend among the other prisoners at Stalag Thirteen. Every time Kommandant Klink loses his wallet I know that Corporal Newkirk has something to do with that... And I remember the time when he performed one of his magic tricks in front of General..."]

["Schultz, enough."] Klink turned to Metzger. ["We have a lot of anecdotes with this prisoner, as you see."]

["Yes, we do. The Engländer has his personal isolation cell and all,"] Schultz laughed and turned to the door.

The guards smiled with him but in a manner that the sergeant found rather patronizing.

["That's what I told Kommandant Metzger before your arrival,"] Lieutenant Engelwald interrupted. ["I insist on more interrogation. I'm sure this prisoner is hiding something."]

["Nonsense,"] both colonels said at the same time.

Metzger shook his head. ["I must insist on addressing the proper authorities. The prisoner might need professional help. The Red Cross must be informed-"]

["Kommandant, the Engländer is just pretending. He's hiding information of some sort and if I may-"]

Colonel Klink got up. ["You're both wrong. Corporal Newkirk is been trying to work his way out of Germany ever since I met him. I'm quite sure that he is capable of convincing anybody of his madness and take a free pass back to England."] He took his monocle to clean it and put it back. ["I'm not going to allow that some prisoner of mine walks away with such a lie. I expect full cooperation. General Burckhalter is coming to Stalag Thirteen on Friday and-"]

Metzger almost stepped back. He did not take his eyes off the cane in Klink's hand. He turned to the lieutenant . Engelwald shook his head. If he was not getting more time to interrogate the prisoner, at least he would not allow him to escape.

["I can only make recommendations,"] he said. ["Maybe he's just a trickster as Colonel Klink has stated. He knows the man better than we do. The best thing to do is bring the prisoner here to explain himself."]

ooOoo

The minutes passed slowly now that he was alone in his cell. Newkirk paced around trying to prevent his mind from being idle. He did not want to think, he did not want to sleep. _The first night at the Dulag..._ _No, no..._, he shook his head. _Rub-a-dub dub, Three men in a tub, And who do you think they be?..._ "Hamish, Ross and Newkirk," he said aloud. He looked at the wall. One shadow looked back at him.

_Hey, Newkirk, are you going to sleep all day long? There is so much to do... It's all right, we'll see you at the Red Lion when the war is over... Good bye, Newkirk... Take care... Don't get yourself killed..._

He remembered what Hogan had told him the night before. The colonel was right; he was angry at his friends. They had come too far just to get themselves killed. _You should've waited till I got better., Hamish... We should've stuck together... And now you're both dead... The best part of the deal..._

He dropped to his knees with his face in his hands. How much longer would this war last?

He was so tired. He was torn between going home and being free or staying to keep on fighting on Hogan's side. Their job was important, they saved lives and sabotaged the enemy's plans. They could shorten the war and incline the balance on the Allies' side. But he was so tired...

He felt the door opening and steps coming in. One man crouched next to him. Newkirk looked up and sighed.

"Cavendish, I can't do this... I just can't go on..."

"Do what? Newkirk, your work is already done. You did it, mate. It's time to go home."

"Home? I can go home now, can't I?" He said. "I've done more than I've been asked for, haven't I."

"It's all right, my friend." Cavendish helped him to get up. "There are three men at the main office arguing about what to do with you. Engelwald wants to carry on with the interrogation, but I don't think that you're crazy enough to go for that. That leave us with two other options: taking madness to the last consequences so Metzger sends you back home, or going back with Stalag Thirteen's Kommandant."

Newkirk stared at him for a moment. He shook his head and frowned. "Who came from the Stalag?"

"Somebody called Colonel Klink."

Newkirk raised his eyebrows. "Colonel Klink? In person?" Someone had come from the Stalag. He wondered if it would be Carter.

"That's how they called him," Captain Cavendish saw a change in the corporal's attitude.

"I've got to see this." Newkirk came out of the cooler. He walked on a confident step to the main building. The guard had to rush to keep up and so did Cavendish.

Newkirk stopped at the door when he saw Colonel Klink. To his own surprise, he was happy. Just stepping into the office, he jumped over Klink with open arms.

"Colonel Klink! So good to see you!" Newkirk held Klink's face in his hands and kissed him on both cheeks.

Klink, still in shock, had to wait one second for some word to form in his mouth. "Schultz!"

The sergeant rushed from behind Newkirk and lift him up. He took him away from the colonel before putting him on the floor. "Newkirk, what are you doing? Control yourself!"

"Schultzy!" Newkirk turned and kissed him. "What a sight for sore eyes!"

Cavendish had to clench his teeth to suppress a big laugh. He stood by the door not wanting to miss detail. This would be on his list when he wrote his anecdotes at Dulag Konsbach.

"Corporal Newkirk, did you really think that it was possible to escape from me?" Klink walked towards him with his hands clapped on his back.

"I don't know what possessed me, I-I needed fresh air." Newkirk stammered but kept smiling.

"Fresh air?" Klink adjusted his monocle and the guards behind Schultz and Newkirk stepped back. "And how come you ended up in this place?"

Newkirk grinned innocently. "I got lost, it was dark... This was the only place I knew around here. You know, since I've been here before... I could make meself cozy without much trouble."

At one sign from Metzger, Cavendish translated the conversation.

["But you've been acting strangely,"] Colonel Metzger intervened. ["You gave yourself away with all the confusion you made."]

"And what about the prisoner that escaped during that confusion? What do you know about that?" Engelwald asked.

"I don't know anything about that. I don't remember what happened after the game started. We were losing and I couldn't stand it. You Germans play to kill... You know how much I love football. Go, Manchester United and all that rubbish!" He turned to Schultz for support.

"That's right, Kommandant, these Engländer are really serious about football, you should see them play. And when they lose," he shook his head. "Hell gets loose."

Newkirk and Cavendish laughed.

"There he goes again. That's how it started this morning. Telling nonsensical jokes, causing distractions before running away." Engelwald protested.

["I strongly recommend a psychiatric evaluation, this prisoner is sick."] Metzger said.

"I'm completely sure that he's just making another of his practical jokes. He's known for them, isn't that right, Sergeant Schultz?"

"Absolutely, Kommandant. One jolly joker he is," Schultz said.

["Engelward?"] Metzger made one last appeal to the lieutenant.

["Actually, Kommandant, if I won't have the prisoner for interrogation, I'd rather support Colonel Klink's taking him back to Stalag Thirteen."]

"Schultz, take the prisoner to the car and don't take your eyes off him!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant, I'll sit on him if necessary!"

One of the guards took that as a threat and felt sorry for the Englishman. He exchanged glances of alarm with another guard when the sergeant took Newkirk outside. Cavendish followed them.

["I'll see that the prisoner gets professional help if he actually requires it."] Klink saluted Metzger.

["Keep us informed, just for the record,"] Metzger said.

["Be careful with him. I suspect he's part of a more complex organization than we think."] Engelwald said.

["Lieutenant Engelwald has a vivid imagination,"] Klink grinned. ["I assure you that nothing happens in my Stalag under my vigilant eye. That's why they call me-"]

["_The Beast of Hammelburg?"] _Kommandant Metzger said.

["No... _Iron Eagle_..."] Klink frowned. ["Do they call me other names that I don't know of?"]

["No, no, just something I picked up somewhere,"] Metzger shrugged uncomfortably.

Engelwald rolled his eyes and barely responded to the last salute before Klink walked away.

ooOoo

Cavendish shook Newkirk's hand for the last time. "You finally made up your mind, them."

"I think so, yes."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? We actually have a lot of work around here."

"I know but I did me part of digging tunnels already." He turned to Schultz. "Just a British idiom, Schultzy."

The sergeant pretended not to be paying attention. "I heard nothing," he said, as he dusted the sleeves of his coat.

"Send me regards to Salisbury and his boys. They're good chaps, for Scotts." Newkirk smiled. "Remember our meeting at the _Red Lion _is still on."

"Till the end of the war, Corporal. God save the King."

"Till the end of the war, Captain. And may the King save us all."

ooOoo

LeBeau paced around the barrack following the rhythm of Carter's fingers rattling on the table. It had been almost five hours since Klink left and they were still waiting. Hogan locked himself in his office and Kinch went downstairs. Only LeBeau and Carter stayed to hold the fort.

Carter stopped his rattling each time the motor of a car passed by. The fourth time, LeBeau was about to carry out with his promise of cutting off one of Carter's fingers.

"I've been reading about _Shell shock_. That's how they called it during the Big War. I know what Newkirk is going through and how we can help him." Carter said.

"I'm sure Colonel Hogan will get him the best treatment if he needs one." LeBeau moved to the window.

"Bad memories are hard to control on your own. It's like having bats in your belfry. So uncomfortable."

"I suppose you're the one to know, Carter," LeBeau chuckled. "But Newkirk is not going mad. He's just scared. As soon as he's with us, he'll feel better. We'll talk and chase the _bats_ away."

"There they are. Did you hear that? An engine coming down the road-" Carter suddenly said.

"Cars pass down that road all the time, Carter," LeBeau said.

Hogan opened his door and went outside. "Didn't you hear it? One car is coming."

"With our luck, it could be Burckhalter," LeBeau shook his head.

"It's Klink's car, I'd recognize that engine anywhere." Carter said.

LeBeau would not doubt him. They had dismantled that engine often enough to become familiarized with every little noise it made. They piled up behind Hogan at the door. Kinch came too with the same expectation as the others.

The black car ran through the gates and did not slow down until it was in front of Klink's office. Schultz got out first to open the door for Klink. Then, he helped Newkirk to step out.

"He's still in chains? Those animals!" LeBeau said.

"He's okay, he looks okay, right?" Carter asked.

"He's okay," Kinch confirmed laying one hand on Carter's shoulder. "Klink doesn't look too good, though. He hasn't stopped talking."

Hogan stepped aside. "Everybody stay put. I'm going in."

As he got closer, he could hear Klink scolding Newkirk.

"Good to see you back, Colonel Klink." Hogan turned to Newkirk. "I'm sure you've learned your lesson. No one escapes from Stalag Thirteen."

"Of course he has," Klink climbed up the steps to his office before turning back to Newkirk. "Didn't you, Corporal Newkirk?"

"Certainly I have, Colonel. You made it real clear all the way back here." Newkirk grinned. "Sorry I fell asleep most of the speech. Two hours and a half of it," he sighed.

"But Konsbach is just a two-hour drive from here," Hogan said.

"He started his speech before we left," Schultz sighed.

"And you fell asleep?" Hogan smiled at Newkirk..

"He did indeed. You should've heard him snore." The sergeant laughed.

"You find that funny?" Klink stared at them. "Let's see if thirty days in the cooler sharps the corporal's sense of humor. And after that, thirty more days in confinement in the barracks!" He turned on his heels and went to his office. "I don't want to be disturbed, any complaints will wait until Saturday afternoon!"

"That's when General Burckhalter supposedly leaves." Sergeant Schultz explained grabbing Newkirk by one arm. "Come, you've caused enough trouble for a while."

"All right, Newkirk?" Hogan walked next to him.

"Better than expected, sir," Newkirk smiled honestly.

"Don't worry about him, Colonel. I'll talk to the kommandant after the general leaves and see what I can do about those sixty days in confinement. Maybe he'll allow you to do some work in exchange for the days in the barrack."

"Too kind of you, but I plan to sleep most of those days." He turned to Hogan. "I really do."

Hogan felt relieved to hear that. He walked with them to the coolers and waited until Schultz opened the door of the cell. The sergeant turned to Newkirk.

"All right, now those shackles." He reached for the keys but Newkirk just put the chains in his hands.

"There you go, Schultz, thank you very much."

"Colonel Hogan, did you see that?" The sergeant complained.

"Don't look at me, that never happened on my family's side," Hogan shrugged. He patted the corporal on the back. "Make yourself at home, I'll drop by later."

"Be right here, sir." He turned to Schultz. "I promise."

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Schultz peeped through the window of the cell. He counted five men in there and walked away. As long as Newkirk were one of them, he did not not bother asking stupid questions like how they got in there by instance.. Hogan would only wrap him on a labyrinth of clever lines that left him clueless or on his way to the Russian front. The less he knew about Hogan and his men, the happier everybody would be.

"It's a real silver dollar," Carter laughed. "Where did you find it?"

"Do you really have to ask?" LeBeau shook his head. "Those Boches have no shame. I bet they stole it from one of the American prisoners."

"But Newkirk got it back," Kinch said.

"I call it _poetic justice._" Newkirk shrugged.

"Did you actually kiss Klink on the lips?" Carter grinned.

"Oh, come on. Where did you hear that?" Newkirk rubbed his neck as though trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Schultz's _Gazette_," Kinch snorted. "It will be a headline around the camp by tomorrow."

"Blimey," Newkirk shook his head. "It wasn't on the lips... I kissed him on both cheeks. I carried too far the thing about going mad , I guess."

"But why did you kiss him anyway?" Carter wrinkled his nose.

"Well, only this morning, I was about to be shipped back home under the premises that I was going mad. I considered it for a moment. You have no idea how close I was to giving up altogether." Newkirk saw his friends' stares of concern. He smiled. "Then, I saw Klink out there and I remember the things we do here, the fun, the rush... I just don't want to miss any minute of it. I couldn't live anywhere else knowing that you're still here having all the fun without me." Newkirk looked away but turned back immediately. "I was just happy to see them coming for me. I couldn't have felt happier if it had been one of you guys."

"That's exactly my reason for sending Klink to fetch Newkirk." Hogan joked. "I knew our Englishman would not resist him."

"Oh, yeah, right," Carter smirked before remembering whom he was talking to. "Sir."

They sat on the floor, drinking wine and playing cards. Just as they usually did when one of them was in the cooler. Newkirk seemed to be back in body and soul and things could not be more normal. Hogan was rather pleased.

At one point, Newkirk took a purposeful breath and spoke. "I'm sorry I was so upset the day I left. It was not fair that I took it out on you two, mates."

"Ça fait rien, mon ami, we understand." LeBeau patted Newkirk on the shoulder.

"Yeah, what are friends for if you can't yell at them once in a while?" Carter smiled.

"We were concerned, though." Kinch said. "But it's okay. You're back, safe and sound."

"You should've seen their faces when I came back empty handed yesterday." Hogan said from the bed. "Only Josh could save me from being hanged."

"Poor Josh waited as much as he could to talk to you. He wanted to thank you for saving his life." Carter told him.

"It's good to know that the lad finally got to England." Newkirk lowered his eyes.

"He asked me to tell you that he found you an Indian name." Carter smiled. "He said that you're _The Wanderer."_

"How appropriate for you, Newkirk." LeBeau concurred. "I mean, for someone who has been everywhere and done everything."

Newkirk became suddenly quiet. He smiled and nodded. "But don't start calling me that, all right?"

Kinch noticed the changing atmosphere and tried to lighten it up a little. "At least it's not like the little Deer here running to the forest." He patted Carter on the back. They laughed and drank some more.

"Undoubtedly," Newkirk said.

"New word? What is that supposed to mean?" Carter grumbled.

Newkirk shrugged. "It's just a word that me friend Hamish used to say all the time."

"Hamish?" LeBeau asked.

"You never mentioned him before," Carter said.

"I didn't, did I?" Newkirk smiled softly. "He was me best friend at the Academy... We went through a lot together."

"What happened to him?" Carter asked intentionally .

Kinch was about to stop his interrogatory, but Hogan shook his head slightly. If Newkirk felt uncomfortable with the conversation, he would have to say it himself.

After a second of silence, Newkirk tilted his head and shrugged. "He died, Andrew. Hamish and other friend of ours tried to cross the gates at the wrong time and they were shot."

"Jeez, I'm sorry, pal. That's too bad."

"It's all right. He pushed his luck a bit too far, I guess." Newkirk lit a cigarette and smiled. "But there were good times too, even at the Dulag. He-, we were sort of practical jokers... got in a lot of trouble... We were lucky they didn't shoot at us before."

One slight tremor on Newkirk's hand while he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette alerted Hogan. He looked tired and distant all of a sudden.

"Well, I hate being a wet blanket but it's school night, boys and we have a job to do tomorrow." Hogan stood up.

"Another mission? Now that's exactly what I need." Newkirk said.

"Sorry, but all you need right now is a good night sleep, maybe two nights." Hogan pushed his men to the trapdoor.

"It's okay, Newkirk, we'll come back tomorrow night and tell you all about it." Carter patted him on the shoulder.

"I'll bring more wine. Two-days aged. You'll love it." LeBeau said before entering the tunnel.

"Good to have you back, Newkirk." Kinch gave him a hug. "Don't do this to us again, okay?"

"I'll be a good boy, I promise." Newkirk smiled while his friends left

Hogan stayed behind. "Newkirk, you deserve a medal for this."

"For going mad beyond duty?"

"You save the entire program of code talkers and Josh's life for all that matter. You're a hero," Hogan smiled.

"I don't feel like a hero." He lowered his eyes.

"But you are, and they will welcome you at home, they will remember you for what you did in the war."

"Till the Ludlow tower shall fall?" He snorted. "Never mind. But don't need any medals, really."

"Well, I know that I promise medals all the time." He sat on the bed. "And you won't see them until the end of the war. But this time you can ask for anything and I'll get it for you. Anything."

Newkirk shook his head. "I'm with me friends. That's all I need right now."

"We'll save it for later. Just keep it in mind." Hogan stood up. He met Newkirk's eyes and frowned. "How are you doing? Honestly."

"Honestly? Hanging there. Better than this morning, that's for sure." Newkirk could see that the colonel was waiting for a more elaborated answer. "I'm not going mad. Really. I can sleep now... like a wee lad."

"Good, I'll keep the guys away for a couple of days so you can rest." Hogan said. "Listen, Klink is going to bring a doctor from town. He just want to shut up the rumors about your sanity." Hogan studied his man attentively. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"There are not many options, are there?"

"Well, no," Hogan conceded. "But it's a small price to pay. It could've been worse."

The silence that followed was not awkward but intriguing. Hogan knew that there was something left to say and yet, he could not verbalize it. He walked to the door and turned to his friend.

"Newkirk, I'm sorry."

"What ever for, sir?"

"I can't stop thinking that if I hadn't sent you to the Dulag, you wouldn't be going through all this. That place triggered something."

"Blame it all on me, Gov'nor. I didn't tell you what was going on. I did think I was stronger than this."

"It's not about strength, Newkirk. Three years is too much time to carry that weight on your shoulders. Maybe it was easier while you kept away from there." Hogan said. "But... the fact is that... Newkirk, I'm afraid that it wouldn't have made any difference. I would've sent you anyway."

Newkirk shrugged and lowered his eyes. "For what is worth, sir. I think I'd have gone in there... Even if I had known what was going to happen to me."

Hogan came closer. "It doesn't make me feel better. I let you down as your friend and as your CO." He shook his head. "You're the best crew I've ever worked with. You should know that I'd die first than causing harm to anyone of you."

"Of course I know that. We all do." Newkirk waited for a moment before saying something else. "Colonel, I have to apologize too. I turned everything up side down."

"We all have our good days and our bad days. Let's not make a fuss about it." Hogan said. "Our lives here are far from normal and things can go crazy once in a while. But we take care of each other, okay? Just remember that you're not alone. We take care of you as much as you take care of us."

"I know but, it's easier to say it." Newkirk sat on the bed. "When Hamish died, a part of me died too... Me, alone in that place terrified me so much... I was hurt... For some time I didn't want to see or do new things because he would not be there to see them or tell him about them... He was so young when he died... He laughed a lot... He talked about his family, his job at the local cinema, the girlfriend waiting for him in Ludlow..." His voice lost strength and he had to exhaled. "Good things have happened to me since then and I hate it when I think that he could have shared them too... He will never meet you, Gov'nor... or the lads." He shook his head. "When they sent me to this Stalag, I tried to stay on my own... I couldn't think of making new friends. But as much as I tried to push them away, they kept coming closer. Now, I'll give me life for them... And they don't know how much it frightens me that-"

"What? That they might dye on you?" Hogan sat next to him. "How do you think I feel every time you go on the field? If I'd stop and think for a second that any of you might not return, I wouldn't send you outside. Ever." He rubbed Newkirk's back. "The weight is heavy, but as long as we're together fighting this war, we'll have to share that. I learned that I can't do all the jobs by myself... and you have to remember that too. Risking your life just because you don't want anyone else to suffer doesn't do any good to the rest of us. Do you understand that?"

Newkirk nodded.

"So, no more crazy stuff. If you don't feel up to the job, before the dizzy spells and sudden blindness begin, please tell me."

"No more talking to shadows, promise..." Newkirk said. "Colonel, about that... for a moment last night, I thought you were going to slap me on the face."

Hogan understood the reference right away and laughed. "That's what we have General Patton for." He squeezed Newkirk's shoulder. "I'm gone. Got a job to do. After our last conversation, I couldn't sleep thinking of the men I told you about and their families... I promised to myself that I'd begin the letters as soon as you came back here. I won't be able to send them until the war is over but at least, I'll get them out of my head."

Newkirk stared at him. "Good for you, Gov'nor."

Hogan stood up. "Newkirk, I know this might sound shallow, but it's true... We all carry ours scars. They're painful and sometimes they can be easily reopened. But friends help to soothe the pain. Don't close your door on us."

"I'll be wiser." Newkirk took a deep breath.

"We don't have a chaplain or a professional counsellor in the Stalag, but you can always talk to me, okay?"

"I'll keep it in mind, sir." Newkirk nodded. "Thank you."

Hogan nodded. He would be more attentive next time. He might not be able to protect his men from the war all the time, but they would not be left at their own devices. "Now go to bed and please, sleep through the night. That's an order." Hogan opened the trapdoor. "Good night, Corporal, good to have you back.."

Newkirk smiled. His decision had been the right one. He could not go back home until all his friends would be safe. They needed him as much as he needed them. "Good night, Gov'nor and thank you, it's good to be back..."

THE END

* * *

_Ça fait rien (It's okay)_

_General Patton_ slapped at least one man during his visit to a veterans hospital. The soldier was suffering from Combat Stress Reaction and refused to go back into battle. The general took it as an act of cowardice and slapped him on the face. The incident was well publicized and opened a discussion to unify criteria about the illness.

The general received a reprimand and had to change his attitude to avoid being demoted.

(Source: Wikipedia)

All right, this is it. I thank you for all the reviews, especially at the beginning. They helped me a lot to get the story going. I hope you had fun reading it. Thank you for your patience and for overlooking my typos and such... I had a blast writing my first HH fanfic. I think I still have another one coming soon, so I hope you don't mind me taking some more time from you to read it and review.

À bien tôt! ¡Hasta pronto! A presto! See you soon!


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